


Together We Take the Future

by ladyxgreywolf



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Dark Past, Domestic, F/F, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Friendship/Love, M/M, Slow Burn, VictUuri, Victor's POV, Victuri, Viktor's POV, Will add more tags as the chapters come up, YOI season 1, Yaoi on Ice, Yuri on ice s1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyxgreywolf/pseuds/ladyxgreywolf
Summary: “Remember the guy you asked me about on Saturday?” he asked. “Katsuki Yuuri?”“Yes.”“Well, he... I love him.”“You said that you didn’t even know that much about him on Saturday! How can you suddenly be in love with him?”-----Or the time when Viktor found a friend outside the world of skating.(will mostly follow the story of season 1)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally joining the YOI-fandom! This will, eventually, follow the story in season 1 - from Viktor's POV. Will probably divert a bit from it and add stuff that I feel are needed for where this story will be heading.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Mr Nikoforov!”_   
>  _Viktor got back up onto his feet and pulled her up as well. Her scowl had by now changed to a frown._   
>  _“Wait, did they say...”_   
>  _“Yes, they did”, Viktor replied, in English. “I’m terribly sorry about knocking you over, but I have to go.”_   
>  _The woman continued to frown at him, before suddenly grabbing hold of his hand._   
>  _“This way.”_

**St Petersburg, September 2012**

* * *

 

To be Viktor Nikiforov meant to never, ever have any privacy. And, usually, Viktor enjoyed the attention.

     However, today was not one of those days.

     It was early September and just about a month before the qualifiers for this year’s Grand Prix Series begun. Viktor had been drafted to compete in Skate America and Trophée de France – and, yes, he was slightly disappointed to not be able to do the Rostelecom Cup, but the final would be held in Sochi and him and everybody else expected him to get there.

     After today, though, Viktor was not even sure he would be able to make the podium in a junior competition.

     In short; he had botched today’s training.

     Which meant he was not very inclined to talk to the press waiting outside the rink, asking him about his upcoming season – as well as every possible question they could come up with about his private life.

     On days like these – when his morning had been so bad – it got really tiring to be known as the “most eligible bachelor in the world”.

     Viktor pushed past the reporters and cameramen, shutting out their questions the best he could while going through his lunch options. There were several cafés near the rink, but he doubted they would offer the privacy he felt he needed right now. They all made a living on being near the rink and all of the famous skaters practicing there – none of them would mind selling him out to a reporter or two.

     He was so busy going over his lunch options while dodging reporters and cameras that he did not consider the possibility of running into someone when heading around the corner. Which, of course, he did, causing both him and whoever he had bumped into to crash to the ground.

     “Oi, watch it!”

     Viktor registered two things upon hearing those words. First, the speaker was a woman. Second, she spoke in English – not Russian. He looked over to see her scowl at him while shoving multiple books back into her bag.

     “Mr Nikoforov!”

     Viktor got back up onto his feet and pulled her up as well. Her scowl had by now changed to a frown.

     “Wait, did they say...”

     “Yes, they did”, Viktor replied, in English. “I’m terribly sorry about knocking you over, but I have to go.”

     The woman continued to frown at him, before suddenly grabbing hold of his hand.

     “This way.”

     She took off at a run, pulling him along – well, at first. It did not take him that long to run without being pulled. Eventually she only needed to lightly tug on his hand whenever they had to make a turn.

     “In here”, she suddenly said and yanked open a door to her left, pulling him with her inside and up the first set of stairs. They crouched by a window overlooking the street below and watched the reporters run past.

     “Well”, Viktor said once they had all disappeared, “thank you.”

     “You’re welcome”, the woman replied with a grin, then held out her hand towards him. “Jenna.”

     “Viktor.”

     He figured he did not need to say his last name – she had already heard it down on the street. And, besides, she only used her first name to introduce herself.

     “Are all of your days like that?” she asked and leaned back against the wall behind her.

     “I usually don’t mind them”, Viktor admitted, “but today... was not a usual day.”

     Jenna hummed something inaudible in agreement.

     “You’ve had lunch?” she asked.

     “No, not yet, and...”

     He took out his phone to check the time – and realized that Yakov would probably kill him as more than half of his intended lunch break had already passed.

     “What?” Jenna asked. “You look like you’ve swallowed a couple of very sour lemons all of a sudden.”

     “I need to get back to the rink”, Viktor replied and stood up. Jenna frowned at him and rose as well.

     “For a famous ice skater you don’t sound very happy about going back to the rink.”

     “Bad morning.”

     “Figures. So why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

     Viktor stared at her.

     “The season starts in a month, I just botched my entire routine and you’re suggesting I take the day off?”

     “Just a suggestion”, Jenna replied, raising her hands in a defending gesture. Viktor tried to come up with a good reply – as well as a good reason for why he _should not_ take the rest of the day off. It would not have been the first time he did that.

     Slowly he pulled up his phone again and phoned Yakov.

     “Yakov”, he said once his coach picked up, “I’m not coming back today.”

     Then, before Yakov could begin his angry rant about Viktor being sloppy, he hung up. Jenna stared at him, before suddenly grinning widely – a grin that Viktor matched.

     “Come on”, she then said and started up the stairs to the elevator. He followed and watched as she punched a code into the panel next to the floor buttons. Much like he would do when entering his own penthouse apartment.

     When the elevator let them out on the tenth floor his suspicions turned out to be right. The elevator did not open to a common hallway, but a private one; the foyer of a penthouse apartment. Viktor gave a slight whistle.

     “You didn’t seem to be the penthouse type”, he noted as Jenna headed further inside.

     “My dad pays for it”, she replied over her shoulder, then turned right into the kitchen-half of the room. Viktor stopped to take it in. The half where he stood was the living room, with a pair of comfy couches lined up in front of a television set and with floor-to-ceiling windows. The ceiling was, by the way, not just one but two floors up. There was a slightly curving staircase leading up to the second floor and he could see the hint of another staircase – simpler than the first – leading up to a third.

     “When I said I wanted to study in Russia for a year my dad agreed to it on the condition that he’d get me a place to stay”, Jenna explained from the kitchen. “I guess he didn’t want me to live in a dorm. I wouldn’t have minded, but saying no to my dad isn’t exactly easy.”

     Viktor walked towards the kitchen, which had a regular ceiling-height and looked far less intimidating than the living room outside. And far more personal; he counted three coats strewn over the chairs by the table, a half-finished cereal bowl by the fully-stacked dishwasher and at least twenty scenic photographs taped to the fridge.

     “Alright, so, I could heat up something, but, if you don’t mind staying a little longer, I also make a killer mac-and-cheese”, Jenna said and turned to look at him.

     “Hm”, Viktor said and sat down on one of the empty chairs, “then mac-and-cheese it is.”

     It took Viktor about an hour to realize how much fun he was having. It had been so long since he had been able to interact with anyone who did not spend time with him because he was _the_ Viktor Nikiforov. Jenna was not an ice skater – in fact the only reason she had recognized his name was because her friend from her university in London was obsessed with him – and she was, true to her word, very good at making mac-and-cheese. She joked and acted out, made him laugh to the point of crying – and never once did she ask questions about him. In fact the bits she learned about him were things that he quipped in every now and then upon hearing her stories.

     “You have a dog as well?” Jenna said in delight when he mentioned Makkachin. After that they compared pictures of their dogs on their phones – Jenna’s was a Welsh Corgi Cardigan called Otto and seemed to be obsessed with water and mud, as many of her pictures showed him having found a stream or a muddy bank to roll around in.

     The only time Jenna’s smile faded – and made Viktor’s own smile fade – was when he asked her why she had decided to move to St Petersburg.

     “Stuff happened”, she eventually replied, “and I needed to get away from London. I found an exchange program, applied for it and here I am.”

     Viktor decided not to pry.

     It had started to darken when he eventually picked up his coat and made to leave. Jenna followed him out into the foyer to say goodbye.

     “It was good meeting you”, she said. “The real you, not the you my friend always gushed about.”

     “Spotted any differences?”  
     “Yeah. You’re a hell of a lot more fun than I thought.”

     Viktor smiled.

     “That’s good to know”, he said. “I’ll see you around.”

     “If you’re lucky”, Jenna replied.

     Viktor waited until he was a block away from her building before taking up his phone and sending a quick text.

     _Coffee tomorrow? V_

     He received an instant reply.

     _How the hell did you get my number?_

     Viktor chuckled. He had subtly added his number to her phone when borrowing it to look at pictures of her dog – and then sent an empty text to himself in order to save hers.

     _You have training_ was her next text.

     _I can make time_

_You skipped this afternoon. Isn’t your coach going to kill you?_

Viktor chuckled again before typing out his response.

     _Dinner, then. Payment for today. My place at 7?_

_This isn’t some subtle way of asking me out, is it?_

Viktor almost stopped walking. Asking her out? He could not deny that she was cute, but, truth be told, he had never been interested in girls. He tried to be – and Yakov had once said that it would be better for publicity if he acted like he was – but he was not.

     _No_ was his simple reply. Then he added _Not into that_

     Her reply took longer this time. He wondered if he had hurt her – maybe she had wanted him to ask her out. With texting it was hard to tell if someone used sarcasm or not – even if they used emojis, which Jenna did not seem to do.

     _Me neither. Tomorrow at 7?_

Viktor stared at the text. If this meant what he thought it meant, then he had certainly found a friend.

     _At 7. Text you the address tomorrow morning_

_See you then! J_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: the reason why I gave Jenna a Welsh Corgi Cardigan is mainly because that's the dog I have myself.
> 
> Please leave a comment, kudos, bookmark - whatever you want to do. Next chapter will be up soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’re an idiot”, Jenna said when he brought it up._   
>  _“What for?” Viktor asked, looking over at where she lay on the other couch._   
>  _“You’re longing for freedom”, she said. Viktor stared at her, then huffed out a laugh._   
>  _“Right, because I’m definitely a prisoner. There are bars over every window and I have shackles around my ankles.”_   
>  _“You’re trapped by people’s expectations.”_

**St Petersburg, December 2012**

* * *

Over the next couple of months Viktor and Jenna got closer and closer. They met up for coffee at least three times per week, then had lunch or dinner together at least three other times. The night after Viktor returned to St Petersburg after winning Skate America he headed straight to Jenna’s apartment where Makkachin had been staying – and ended up staying the night. That night led to more and more nights and Viktor actually started to move several of his own personal items into the bedroom on the first floor of the penthouse. By mid-November – after he had returned from the Trophée de France (which he also won) – Jenna actually started to refer to it as “his room”. And Viktor started to properly think about moving in for good.

     Honestly, if it was not for the fact that the apartment’s lease was only good for another seven months then Viktor might have done just that. He liked staying at Jenna’s far more than he liked staying in his own penthouse apartment. Maybe it was the fact that Jenna’s place was smaller than his – despite having three floors, the topmost being an office-slash-studio with a glazed roof – or maybe it was the personal items that Jenna slowly started to add to every room, not just the kitchen. Viktor even persuaded her to have one of the photographs he had seen taped to the fridge blown up into a canvas painting (Jenna had initially not wanted this because the photos were taken by her and she was not a professional photographer, but in the end she caved).

     It took him until December – a week before the Grand Prix finale – to figure out why Jenna’s place felt more like a home to him than his own. It was _real_.

     His own apartment was styled by a hired interior designer and he hardly kept any food in the fridge, knowing that he would eat lunch at some café mid-training and then most likely have dinner at a restaurant or order take-out. As the apartment was serviced people came and did the dishes, cleaned and dusted, made his bed and everything else while he was out, leaving it looking neat and untouched – like a stock photo. Even Makkachin’s things were put in order every day and the dog’s bowl was of a design meant to compliment the overall modern style of the apartment.

     And then there were the general Viktor Nikiforov items. Medals. Trophies. Diplomas. Everywhere you looked you would find at least one of them, pointing to the fact that the apartment belonged to _the_ Viktor Nikiforov. The one all the papers wrote about now that the Grand Prix finale was drawing near.

     They did not talk about the Viktor Nikiforov that lounged upside-down on the couch in Jenna’s apartment because of a bet against his friend that he could stay in that position and not get dizzy far longer than she could.

     Or the Viktor Nikiforov that, when Halloween came around, dressed up as a zombie and scared the crap out of Jenna when she came home after a long day at university – despite never having celebrated Halloween himself before.

     There was nothing in the papers about the Viktor Nikiforov that, one night, found Jenna sobbing in the kitchen and stayed up all night to keep her company.

     Nor did they talk about the Viktor Nikiforov who continuously struggled with the feeling that something very important was missing from his life.

     The feeling that something was missing was not a new one – far from it. He was _the_ Viktor Nikiforov and made his living on surprising the audience with every performance he did. He had been in the spotlight since he was a teenager, known as the best skater in the world since that time, and not claiming the gold medal in a competition was a disaster to everyone. But even he would eventually run out of tricks. He had felt it at the start of this season and he still did. His most recent free program – _Stammi Vicino_ – was full of high difficult sequences, but the surprises were fewer. Everything had already been done. Except for his theme, perhaps. Longing. Every show was different because he longed for different things while skating – all with the same intensity, but nothing concise. He missed and longed for something he did not even recognize.

     “You’re an idiot”, Jenna said when he brought it up.

     “What for?” Viktor asked, looking over at where she lay on the other couch.

     “You’re longing for freedom”, she said. Viktor stared at her, then huffed out a laugh.

     “Right, because I’m definitely a prisoner. There are bars over every window and I have shackles around my ankles.”

     “You’re trapped by people’s expectations.”

     Viktor stopped laughing, choking on the sound. Jenna could be terribly accurate with her observations at times.

     “People expect you to do certain things in your skating programs – to surprise them”, she continued. “They don’t know how, which is why they’re always excited about it, but they know you will. But you, as you say, are running out of tricks. And when you do you fear they won’t be happy. You also follow the advice and orders you get from your coach, your publicist, your whatever – which traps you personally as well.”

     She sat up and turned to face him head on.

     “Does anyone but me know you don’t like girls?” she bluntly asked.

     “One”, Viktor admitted. “Chris Giacometti.”

     “And how do you act around either of us compared to how you act around people who don’t know?”

     Viktor did not answer. He did not need to; Jenna already knew that he did act somewhat different with her compared to with his rink mates. That he put up an act around everyone who did not know his innermost secret.

     “Viktor”, Jenna said and leaned forward to take his hand, “I know how you feel. I can’t tell you how, but I do, and this year is about me deciding for myself how to break free. I’d advise you do the same once this season comes to a close.”

     He nodded slightly, squeezing her hand. There were several big competitions left, several shows he had to perform. Once the last one – the World Championships in March – was over, then perhaps he could take some time off. Travel. Figure out what to do next.

     “You sure you won’t come to Sochi and watch?” he asked, changing the subject to one he had brought up multiple times that week.

     “I’ve got exams”, Jenna replied, as she always did, and let go of his hand. “Besides, you’re a big boy; no need for me to be there.”

     Viktor chuckled and the seriousness of the previous conversation dissipated, replaced by their usual banter. The future could wait.

* * *

**Sochi, December 2012**

* * *

The Grand Prix finale ended with Viktor at the top of the podium, with Chris Giacometti claiming silver and Jean-Jacques Leroy from Canada in third. Viktor smiled at the cameras, waved at the fans, winked at some choice spectators – but inside he longed to leave the ice. He wished he could avoid the upcoming press conference, but Yakov would kill him if he did. Literally kill him.

     _Nice skating_ said the text Jenna had sent him, which he checked the moment he got out of the hall.

     _Thank you_ was his reply.

     _Who was the Japanese kid?_

     Viktor frowned slightly. He doubted Jenna had watched the junior’s competition, which meant that by “Japanese kid” she could only mean the guy who had finished last in his class. His short program had been quite good, but his free skate had been a disaster. Viktor did not think he had nailed a single jump. His step sequences, however, had still been brilliant. When seeing that Viktor had felt a thrill in his heart, the kind of thrill he always felt when he saw someone skate with utter beauty.

     _Katsuki Yuuri_ he wrote in reply to Jenna, then added _I don’t know much more about him_.

     _I was surprised he could stand at the end_ she wrote. Viktor had to agree with that; Katsuki Yuuri had fallen so many times and in such bad ways it was a wonder he had not broken half of the bones in his body.

     Yakov was yelling up ahead and Viktor quickly put his phone away. Press conference, then back to the hotel to prepare for his exhibition tomorrow, and then there was the banquet. In two days he would be back in St Petersburg and find his sparse freedom with Jenna in her apartment again. He put his standard smile back on his face and followed Yakov through the corridor into the hall prepared for the conference, then, while answering question after question, he counted the upcoming competitions of this season in his head. Nationals. The European Championships. Four Continents. Worlds.

     Four competitions.

     Then he could figure out what to do next.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Viktor, it’s six-thirty in the morning”, she hissed when picking up._   
>  _“I’m in love”, Viktor replied. Jenna was silent for a long time after that._   
>  _“What?”_   
>  _“I’m. In. Love.”_   
>  _“Rewind, Viktor”, Jenna said. “What are you talking about?”_

**Sochi, December 2012**

* * *

The first thing Viktor did when waking up on the 10th of December was grab hold of his phone and call Jenna. Without checking the time. Which Jenna did not appreciate.

     “Viktor, it’s six-thirty in the morning”, she hissed when picking up.

     “I’m in love”, Viktor replied. Jenna was silent for a long time after that.

     “What?”

     “I’m. In. Love.”

     “Rewind, Viktor”, Jenna said. “What are you talking about?”

     “You should have been there”, Viktor sighed. “You should have...”

     “Viktor...”

     There was a somewhat threatening tone in Jenna’s voice, indicating that if he did not give up on teasing her with hints right now he would regret it when they saw each other next.

     “Remember the guy you asked me about on Saturday?” he asked. “Katsuki Yuuri?”

     “Yes.”

     “Well, he... I love him.”

     “You said that you didn’t even know that much about him on Saturday! How can you suddenly be in love with him?”

     Viktor sighed and leaned back against the pillows in his bed.

     “The banquet was last night”, he said, “and we all expected it to be the same boring affair it always is. I didn’t see him at first, but then, suddenly, he stood at our table.”

     “Our table being...”

     “The table I shared with Chris and Yuri Plisetsky”, Viktor replied.

     “You dragged little Yuri to the banquet?” Jenna asked.

     “He won junior’s; he was allowed to be there.”

     “He’s fifteen!”

     “Will you let me continue my story?”

     Jenna grumbled something that sounded a lot like “stupid ice skaters”, causing Viktor to smile. He wondered if he should turn on face-cam – but he was not sure what would happen if people found out about Jenna. Yes, he was definitely possessive when it came to his friend.

     “Go on then”, Jenna sighed.

     “Well, Katsuki Yuuri came up to our table and told Yuri Plisetsky to move over. Of course, he did not, and instead – quite rudely – questioned Katsuki’s reason for this. Katsuki Yuuri then said that he should be the one sitting next to me.”

     “Wait, you’re turned on by _possessiveness_?” Jenna interrupted.

     “No, I’m not, or at least I wasn’t”, Viktor replied. “I thought it was weird – and it got weirder, because in the next moment Katsuki Yuuri challenged Yuri Plisetsky to a dance-off. And _that_ you should have been there to see.”

     He recalled how the two had taken to the dance floor, how Katsuki Yuuri had shouted at the DJ to change the music – and then how he had started to move. The thrill Viktor had felt upon seeing the Japanese man’s step sequences was back again, in full force. Katsuki Yuuri moved in a way that would make entire nations bow down to him.

     And just when he had realized that, Katsuki Yuuri had suddenly pulled him – Viktor – out of his chair, placed him centre-stage on the floor and started dancing around him. Not like he was a maypole – more like he was a pole dance pole.

     “One of those actually showed up moments later”, Viktor added over the phone.

     “Quick question; how much pot do ice skaters smoke? How the hell did someone get a _pole dance pole_ into the banquet hall?”

     “I suspect Chris”, Viktor replied with a grin.

     “I suspect all of you”, Jenna muttered. “So what happened with this Katsuki Yuuri? Did he start to strip and dance around the actual pole?”

     “Yep. And Chris joined him.”

     “Considering what you’ve told me about Chris, I’m not surprised.”

     Viktor chuckled.

     “So did you fall in love with him because he did a lap dance and stripped for you?” Jenna asked. “I thought your standards would require a bit more than that.”

     “At that point I was intrigued”, Viktor replied, “but then the two of us started dancing as well. And there was... there was something about him, Jen. Something _different_.”

     He thought back to the alluring smile Katsuki Yuuri had given him when they danced, when his hands travelled the length of Viktor’s back, then back up again.

     “I’ve dreamed of doing this for a while now”, he had sighed.

     “Really?” Viktor had replied, smiling his usual smile. “You should have asked me sooner; I’d never say no to a dance when asked by someone like you.”

     Katsuki Yuuri had laughed slightly at that, his hands finding their way in beneath Viktor’s jacket.

     “More than dance”, he had said. “Spend time with you.”

     “Viktor? You still there?”

     Viktor blinked.

     “Yep”, he said into the phone, “I’m here.”

     “Well, then answer my question. What happened between you two after you danced?”

     “I took him back up to his room”, Viktor replied. “He told me about his family – they run an _onsen_ back in Japan. Hasetsu, I believe. He invited me to come visit...”

     “And?” Jenna asked when he drifted off again.

     “And he asked me to coach him.”

     “Huh”, Jenna said, “not what I was expecting, but interesting. What did you say?”

     “I didn’t reply”, Viktor answered, “and just about when we got up to his room he started feeling sick. He was pretty drunk.”

     “He did all of those things you just told me about _while_ piss drunk?”

     “Yes. And no, Jenna, I didn’t...”

     “I know you wouldn’t”, she interrupted. “You might appear to be uncaring and selfish, but I know you’re not, Viktor. And I know you would never take advantage of a drunk guy – despite claiming to love him.”

     “I do love him.”

     “Good. You still wouldn’t take advantage.”

     Viktor nodded, even though she could not see him do so.

     “So what are you going to do?” Jenna asked. “Are you going to see him again?”

     “I’ll probably see him at some competition soon again – not sure I’ll get to see him this morning. Yakov wants us to get back to St Petersburg as soon as possible and some teams have already left.”

     “You got his number?”

     “No, but I left mine in his phone.”

     “And you didn’t do what you did to me?” Jenna asked.

     “May I remind you I was a bit drunk myself last night?” Viktor replied. “I didn’t quite think this all through.”

     “Apparently”, Jenna muttered. “Well, let’s hope he calls you then. I’m happy for you, Viktor. I really am.”

     “Thank you. I’ll text you when I land in St Petersburg.”

     “Or you could just let yourself into the apartment once you get there.”

     “Whichever I remember to do first”, Viktor said with a smile, before hanging up and leaning back against the pillows again. He had left out the part when they had gotten to Katsuki Yuuri’s room. The other man had not felt sick right away – in fact he had seemed rather interested in continuing what had begun down on the dance floor. And Viktor had only vaguely protested. He could not do much else when Katsuki Yuuri’s lips trailed down his throat while his hips moved against Viktor’s in the most sinful way possible. By now Viktor was getting hard just thinking about that. He wondered if they would have given in to temptation and gone all the way had Katsuki Yuuri not suddenly pulled back and run into the bathroom to throw up.

     Yakov banged on his door, waking him from his memories and prompting him to take a shower (and jack off), then get dressed. He met his rink mates down at the breakfast buffet – most of them suffering from tremendous headaches – and decided not to talk about last night with them. Not until they were at the airport did he decide to discuss Yuri Plisetsky’s free skate with the teenager – not that the teenager seemed prone to listen, which Yakov berated him for.

     That was when he felt someone looking at him and glanced over his shoulder. Katsuki Yuuri stood in the line moving in the opposite direction – and looked like he had seen a ghost.

     Not the best way to meet someone you had almost hooked up with the night before. It looked like Katsuki Yuuri had intended to avoid Viktor – as if he wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

     That hurt.

     “A commemorative photo?”

     The words slipped out of Viktor’s mouth before he could stop himself and he could see that same hurt flash across Katsuki Yuuri’s face. Viktor wanted to slap himself – or have Jenna slap him. That had been a low blow; acting as if a fellow competitor was no more than a common fan. He watched as Katsuki Yuuri quickly turned around and walked away, following his coach.

     The moment Viktor got on the plane he pulled out his phone and wrote a quick text to Jenna.

     _I fucked up_.

* * *

**St Petersburg, March 2013**

* * *

During the next few months, Viktor withdrew even more from his rink mates and spent more time than earlier at Jenna’s apartment. His own was now almost void of clothes and all of Makkachin’s objects had been relocated as well. He went back to Sochi and won the Russian Nationals in late December. Jenna surprised him with a cake when he came back, since they had not been able to celebrate his twenty-seventh birthday together.

     He then won the European Championships in Zagreb in late January, then Four Continents in Osaka. No Katsuki Yuuri participated in the event. Nor did the Japanese man show up for the World Championships in London, Canada, in March. When asking around about it, Viktor found out that the twenty-three year old skater had supposedly retired, after failing in the Japanese Nationals.

     The win at Worlds was his fifth consecutive, just like the Grand Prix had been, and yet he felt nothing. He had no answer for the reporters when they asked what he planned for the next season. His inspiration and motivation to skate felt crusty and dry.

     “Viktor, have you seen this?”

     He looked up from the magazine he had been skimming through. It was late March by now and Viktor had taken an un-official time-out from training over the last week. He spent all of that time at Jenna’s. At the moment they were up in the studio at the top of the penthouse. Jenna had been editing some of the photographs she had taken of St Petersburg recently, while he had lounged on the couch with Makkachin.

     “Seen what?” he asked and sat up slightly. Jenna waved her phone at him.

     “This video. It’s gone viral over the last two days. Hasn’t anyone sent it to you yet?”

     Viktor frowned, then pulled out his own phone.

     “Chris sent me a video last night, but I never watched it”, he said. “Is it important?”

     “Just click it and watch it”, Jenna sighed and rose from her chair by the computer, heading over to the bookshelf. Viktor huffed, then clicked the link.

     His eyes widened in shock.

     Katsuki Yuuri was skating his free program. With _perfection_.

     Viktor replayed the video – he had to watch it again, look at the details. It looked like the man had put on some weight, but he still skated the program effortlessly. The only difference was that he had lowered the difficulty of some of the jumps – from quads to triples.

     “You’ve watched that five times now”, Jenna noted later. “What’s going on?”

     Viktor stopped the video and looked up at her.

     “I’m moving to Japan”, he said. Jenna stared at him.

     “You’re moving to Japan?” she repeated.

     “Yes. He asked me to be his coach, didn’t he? So I’ll go there and be his coach.”

     “So not to win him back, then?”

     A small smile was playing on her lips, but Viktor knew her well enough to see the slight tension in her arms. Fear.

     After that night in the kitchen, when he had found her crying, he had known that Jenna was running from something. That something had made her leave London behind. She had also noted that she, like him, was not free to make her own choices. They were standing in an apartment paid for by her dad, after all.

     “Come with me”, he offered.

     “Wait, what?”

     “Move with me to Japan”, he said and rose, causing Makkachin to yelp in displeasure as he was shoved to the floor. “We’ll go together – _run_ together.”

     Jenna opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

     “I have my studies”, she said.

     “You did one semester, not two. I haven’t seen you study a single thing since Christmas.”

     “Do you really think it’d be a good idea for me to come along? What if Katsuki thinks I’m your girlfriend or something?”

     “You’re my _best_ friend”, Viktor replied. “They’d have to meet you sooner rather than later. I’d rather it be sooner.”

     He pouted, just to add something else to his argument. After basically living together for half a year, though, Jenna just laughed at the sight.

     “You’re an idiot, Viktor Nikiforov”, she said before wrapping her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Viktor smiled and hugged back.

     “Is that a yes?” he asked.

     “Unfortunately, no”, Jenna sighed and pulled back. “I can’t, Viktor. I can’t go. There are things I haven’t told you about, things that keep me here.”

     She gave him a sad smile and took his hands in hers, squeezing them.

     “In my case the bars on the windows and the shackles around my wrists are almost visible.”

     Viktor frowned, this time with worry. It made Jenna shake her head and pull free.

     “I’ll expect continuous updates, though”, she said as she turned away from him, “and I’ll try my best to get tickets to visit Japan.”

     “I could give you those”, Viktor grumbled and slumped back down onto the couch.

     “If you did...”

     She trailed off, causing Viktor to look up at her again.

     “Let’s just say it wouldn’t be a good idea if you did”, she eventually finished, before turning around and smiling widely at him. “It doesn’t matter; we have to plan an escape for you now, don’t we? Are you even going to tell Yakov and the others at the rink?”

     Viktor hesitated, partly because he had not considered that, partly because this time he did not feel like changing the subject.

     “I won’t”, he eventually said. “I’ll just... leave.”

     “Run, you mean?”

     “Yes, run. I’ll leave them a note, letting them know I’m retiring and will try my hand at coaching. That’s all they need to know.”

     “It sounds a bit like you’re breaking up with them in the worst possible way”, Jenna chuckled and nudged his legs aside so that she could sit down on the couch as well. “When?”

     “Jen, I decided to go less than... thirty minutes ago.”

     “If you don’t want your rink mates to find out, you should probably leave immediately”, Jenna argued. “Yakov will call to order you back to training either today, tomorrow, or the day after that. I’m surprised he hasn’t already! And the moment he does, what are you going to say? That you have to take one or two more days off, then – whoosh – you just disappear?”

     Viktor stared at her.

     “Have you done these things before – plan escapes, I mean?” he asked. Jenna closed her mouth and looked away. Viktor’s eyes widened.

     “You have?”

     He sat up straighter and reached to grab her, but she rose before he could, his fingers only grazing her arm.

     “We should get packing”, she said, already heading towards the stairs. Viktor remained seated while she disappeared from view, mind spinning. With a groan he leaned back on the couch again and tried to make sense of everything that had just happened.

     Katsuki Yuuri had skated his program and a video of it had become a viral trend. It did not matter that the younger skater had acted like Viktor was a nobody when they last saw each other; Viktor had to see him again. And if becoming his coach was the way to get to the man, then that was what he would do. Also, if Yuuri did not want to see him again, why had he skated the program – and had it filmed and posted online?

     And then there was Jenna, whose past Viktor had pondered on before but now seemed to have been even darker than he had guessed. Who was she running from? Why could she not come with him? If whoever it was she wanted to avoid was in London, would it not be better for her to go even further away than to St Petersburg?

     His thoughts were disturbed by his own phone ringing and, as he had dropped it on the couch earlier, he had to spend some time digging it out before he could see who was trying to reach him. By then the caller had hung up.

     Yakov.

     Viktor closed his eyes and sighed. Jenna had been right; his coach was getting impatient. If he wanted to leave without facing the man who had guided him for so long, he had to do so now.

     He pushed all thoughts of Jenna’s past and Yuuri’s possible reasons for skating his program as far back into his head as possible and turned to Makkachin, who had found a comfortable place to sleep on the floor after being shoved from the couch earlier.

     “Well, then”, he said and managed a grin, “what do you say about moving to Japan?”

     The poodle looked up at him and Viktor imagined that he, at least, looked a bit excited about the prospect. Before he could dwell any longer on that thought, however, he skipped – yes, skipped – down the stairs to pack his things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will see Viktor moving to Japan :)  
> And, yes, you might have guessed it earlier, but Jenna has a lot of secrets...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Ah. Good to meet you. You have a beautiful dog.”_   
>  _“Thank you. Is it possible for me to stay here?”_   
>  _“Of course, of course!” the woman said, then waved him inside. Viktor glanced back at Makkachin, who had gone back to his adventures in the snow. The poodle could use some playtime, he guessed, and thus let him remain._   
>  _“Will you be staying long?” the woman asked, walking in behind a desk._   
>  _“I don’t know”, Viktor replied. “As long as I’m able.”_

**Hasetsu, April 2013**

* * *

Viktor had never had any trouble sleeping on planes. Never.

     Until now.

     Now he found himself anxiously squirming in his first class seat from the moment the plane took off in Moscow until it landed in Tokyo. Nine hours of constant squirming and contemplating what the hell he was about to do.

     He only had two suitcases of things with him. The rest of his things had been packed a day before in boxes and would be shipped to Japan – in the fastest way possible – once he had the concrete address of the place he would be staying at. Yuuri had said that his parents owned an _onsen_ – a hot spring – and Viktor hoped that meant the existence of an inn or hotel. Otherwise he would have to ask around for some other place in the small town – Hasetsu – where he could stay.

     That was the least of his problems, though.

     After all, the last time he saw Yuuri the Japanese skater had not seemed even slightly interested in associating with Viktor – especially not after Viktor’s tactless comment of a commemorative photo. What would he say when Viktor suddenly showed up at his doorstep?

     What would Viktor say?

     While squirming and fidgeting on the flight he came up with multiple conversation starters, multiple explanations, multiple everything, so once he landed in Tokyo he felt reasonably certain about having come up with at least one idea that would work. He continued to feel reasonably certain while flying from Tokyo to Fukuoka. And yet the moment he stepped onto the train that would take him from Fukuoka to Hasetsu he started to doubt himself. Again.

     Makkachin noticed. He always noticed. The poodle had never liked to travel this far, so there was no way he was feeling very happy with Viktor’s sudden idea of moving to a completely different country, but he still climbed up in the empty seat next to his owner’s, placed his head in his lap and wagged his tail in an encouraging manner. Viktor could not help but smile at him and scratch his head – which was, without a doubt, Makkachin’s true plan.

     “We’ll be fine”, Viktor said – both to himself and Makkachin – as the train continued its journey.

     Hasetsu turned out to be a town by the sea, with architecture so different from the one Viktor was used to in St Petersburg that it finally hit him that he had made this leap and left his home town behind. At the train station he found one flyer in English that pointed him towards an _onsen_ in the town, but he also saw several in Japanese – and decided to grab all of them. It was the only clue he had to where he might find Yuuri. One of these places had to be the _onsen_ he had mentioned at the banquet.

     He managed to hail a cab and showed the driver the flyers.

     “Katsuki”, he added, hoping that that would help the driver find the right one. The driver immediately lit up and started chatting away in Japanese, taking one of the Japanese flyers and pointing at it. Once he realized that Viktor did not understand him he fell silent, pondered his words for a few moments before he smiled again.

     “Katsuki Toshiya. Katsuki Hiroko. _Yu-Topia_. Hot water. Good food.”

     Viktor smiled and nodded, while hoping that the two names he had just received were Yuuri’s parents and that he would be able to stay there. The driver quickly helped him load his bags into the car and chatted happily in Japanese once more – obviously having forgotten that Viktor did not understand – while petting Makkachin who climbed onto Viktor’s lap in the passenger seat, before they started their journey through town. Something white landed on the windshield and the driver gave a surprised gasp. At first Viktor did not understand what was going on – to him it was nothing but a snowflake, followed by several others, big and fluffy and intent on covering the entire town. Then he realized that here they probably did not have winter in early April. Not when the cherry blossoms had already started to bloom.

     Despite the ever-thickening layer of snow the driver continued towards their destination and eventually pulled up outside a traditional looking Japanese gate. When he got out of the car Viktor could see a courtyard on the other side, covered in snow – to Makkachin’s delight. The poodle was off in an instant, barking happily as he tumbled around, chasing snowflakes and creating tunnels of his own. On the steps of the house opposite the gate stood a Japanese woman, short and round but with a friendly smile on her face. She laughed at Makkachin’s antics, causing the poodle to run up to her and greet her with a lick.

     “ _Konichiwa_ ”, Viktor said as he made his way across the courtyard with his two bags. He knew he probably butchered the word, but the woman did not seem to mind.

     “English?” she asked.

     “Yes”, Viktor replied. He wondered if she had asked if he was English or if he only spoke English. Not that it mattered, but still.

     “Ah. Good to meet you. You have a beautiful dog.”

     “Thank you. Is it possible for me to stay here?”

     “Of course, of course!” the woman said, then waved him inside. Viktor glanced back at Makkachin, who had gone back to his adventures in the snow. The poodle could use some playtime, he guessed, and thus let him remain.

     “Will you be staying long?” the woman asked, walking in behind a desk.

     “I don’t know”, Viktor replied. “As long as I’m able.”

     “Ah, I see. Well, then, please sign your name here.”

     He did, wondering if she would be able to tell from his signature who he was. If she was Yuuri’s mother – he could see some plausible resemblance – she must have heard his name mentioned when discussing figure skating with her son. She did not react to his signature, however; instead she just smiled.

     “I’ll make sure your bags get to your room. You must be tired from your journey. Perhaps a relaxing bath first?”

     Viktor wondered if it would be rude of him to just run in the direction of the bath there and then – he always craved a good wash after travelling and soaking in a hot spring sounded exactly like what he needed right now.

     “A bath would be good”, he managed to say. The woman smiled and gestured for him to follow.

     “Towels and robes”, she said and handed him a package she had taken down from a shelf. “The _onsen_ is through those doors. There are tubs both indoors and outdoors.”

     “Thank you. I mean, _arigato_.”

     He probably butchered that word as well, but the woman seemed happy about his attempt and patted him on the arm, before walking back the way they had come.

     The _onsen_ turned out to be exactly what he needed after three flights and a train journey. He had chosen to soak in one of the tubs outside – mainly because of the amazing bear sculpture towering over it, but in part also because of the privacy. Most of the indoor tubs were in the same room and several were already occupied by locals. Back in Russia he had already stood out because of his silver hair – here he would stand out because he was, on top of that, a foreigner. And for once Viktor Nikiforov could not deal with people talking curiously about him.

     He did not know for how long he had been soaking when he heard shouting from the indoor tubs, causing him to blink the drowsiness from his eyes and look up – just as someone burst through the door leading outside.

     Katsuki Yuuri.

     Yes, he had definitely put on some weight since Viktor last saw him; his cheeks were rounder and he had a bit of a tummy. But other than that he looked the same.

     “V-Viktor?”

     Viktor dragged his gaze up to meet the other man’s. His brown eyes were wide with shock and surprise – in fact he looked like he thought he was dreaming. Like Viktor would never – _should_ never – have come to this place and ended up in sitting in nothing but his birthday suit in a hot spring.

     Turning into _the_ Viktor Nikiforov felt just like slamming a door shut, putting up a physical barrier between his emotions and his mind. He rose up, used the smallest of the towels he had received earlier to subtly cover himself and tossed his hair out of his face.

     “Yuuri”, he said, dragging out the name with a smile and a hand stretched in an elegant pose towards the Japanese man, “starting today, I’m your coach. I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final!”

     Then, for good measure, he added a wink.

     Yuuri just gaped at him. No other response whatsoever. So Viktor continued.

     “Is there food? I should eat something before I start coaching you.”

     Yuuri blinked, then shook himself as a blush rose up on his cheeks. Viktor briefly wondered if that blush was visible elsewhere as well, before that side of him once again became dormant.

     “O-of course”, Yuuri said. “I’ll, er, ask for some food.”

     “Good”, Viktor said with a grin, then stepped out of the _onsen_ and put on the robes he had previously received. They were a bit too small for him – the robe itself could probably be closed properly, but he preferred to keep it a bit loose, while the trousers only reached mid-calf. _Good enough_ , he thought, grinning at Yuuri once again – though by now the Japanese man had turned away and walked ahead of Viktor back inside. He led the way through the inn, talking briefly to the woman who had helped Viktor earlier – in Japanese, so Viktor did not understand what was said but guessed it had to do with food – and then continued inside an empty dining room. Makkachin came bounding in after them, licking the excess water from Viktor’s legs and causing him to grin as well. In the corner of his eye he saw Yuuri hurry out of the room again and, just like that, his walls collapsed again. He sat down by the low table and covered his face with his hands, holding back a frustrated groan.

     This was not supposed to happen. He had figured out exactly what to say to Yuuri when he saw him and becoming _the_ Viktor Nikiforov was not part of the plan. Jenna would have a fit when she heard of this.

     In fact, he would have very much liked it if she suddenly appeared next to him. He had a feeling that would have helped him stay true to himself. Then he could say those things he had planned to say and not fall back on his aloof celebrity persona.

     Of course, Jenna had never been around when he had met with people who knew him as _the_ Viktor Nikiforov, so he could not be sure that would be what would have happened. But he still wished that she had come with him.

     “Er, Viktor?”

     He quickly straightened up as Yuuri backed into the room, carrying a tray of steaming noodle soup. Had the younger man seen him sit there with his face buried in his hands? Viktor was not sure, but the moment he spotted Yuuri his walls slammed back up. He’s not sure he even thanked the other skater before he started eating – inhaling – the food. He was just so hungry and the food smelled so good and... well, truth be told, he had not eaten much on any of the flights he had taken to get here. In no time at all the plate was empty and Viktor felt as if his stomach had grown to twice its original size – but not in a bad way.

     He yawned, widely. Sleep would be good right now and the mat he was sitting on looked like the perfect place for a nap. Makkachin seemed to have the same idea, because the moment Viktor lay down the poodle lay down next to him. In no time at all Viktor was drifting off. His last waking thoughts came from the part of his mind that _the_ Viktor Nikiforov had suppressed, wondering if Yuuri was still in the room. He had not heard him leave. Then exhaustion took over and he allowed sleep to take him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about taking so long with this chapter! I've been on a brief skiing holiday with my family and even though I did spend some time writing I just could not finish this earlier. Chapter 5 should come up sooner!  
> Thanks to everyone who's left kudos and bookmarked and just in general read this story - really appreciate it! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It... we use it as a banquet room”, Yuuri explained, not looking at Viktor._   
>  _“It’s perfect”, Viktor assured him. After all, he would be staying here for quite some time to coach Yuuri and could always buy furniture himself. If that would be allowed by Yuuri’s family. It was their room he was renting, after all. And yes; he intended to pay them for occupying one of their inn’s banquet rooms._   
>  _“There is a bathroom round the corner”, Yuuri said, pointing the way they had come, “and the door on the right side of the room leads to a storage closet. I’m not sure if Mari has cleaned it out, but...”_   
>  _“Yuuri”, Viktor said, causing the Japanese man to fall silent again, “it’s perfect. Thank you.”_

**Hasetsu, April 2013**  

* * *

 

_Viktor was dreaming._

_He knew he was, because there was no way he would otherwise see Jenna landing a flawless quadruple flip. At the World Championships. In the men’s senior division._

_Yep, definitely dreaming._

_Then Yuuri was there as well, with his arms around Viktor’s neck just like he had back in Sochi. The Japanese man opened his mouth and out came what sounded a suspicious lot like Makkachin snoring. Jenna was laughing in the background._

_“You’re an idiot, Viktor Nikiforov”, he heard her say, then ruffle his hair. The scene changed; he was lying down on the couch with Makkachin on top of him, not Yuuri, and he had his head in Jenna’s lap._

_“Be you”, she said. “That’s enough.”_

_She had told him that before he left for the airport – and he knew, even dreaming, that he had failed to do exactly that._

_“I’ll be alright.”_

Loud voices jerked him from sleep. There was a woman speaking in rapid Japanese – and Yuuri’s softer voice giving a short answer at one point. Viktor rolled over and cuddled Makkachin, hoping that he gave them the impression that he was still sleeping. Thinking and dreaming of Jenna had lowered his walls and he was afraid that, if he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings, they would fly up again. And he really, _really_ did not want that. He wanted to follow Jenna’s advice and be himself – not the celebrity version of him.

     However, cuddling Makkachin had the downside of fur tickling his nose. Eventually he could not keep himself from sneezing – which effectively made the Japanese woman shut up. Viktor blinked himself awake and sat up with Makkachin in his arms. The poodle let out a disappointed whine – he wanted to sleep longer. Viktor wanted to as well, but now that he was properly awake he realised that he was also still hungry.

     How long had it been since he had eaten prior to the noodle soup he had had earlier? A day? Two?

     “I’m starving”, he mumbled and raised one hand to rub at his own face. Doing that caused Makkachin to lean heavily on his other arm, which in turn lowered his shoulder and caused the robe to slip. His celebrity persona raised its head, begged him to act out the playboy part. It was difficult to refuse, especially when Yuuri – seated to his right – let out a gasp that reminded him of the sounds he had made when him and Viktor had danced in Sochi. There was a Japanese woman sitting next to Yuuri, looking stunned as she asked him a question in Japanese. She was older, Viktor guessed. Perhaps mid-forties.

     “Er, well, what would you like to eat?” Yuuri asked, drawing Viktor’s attention again. He looked flustered. Viktor managed a small smile – not his celebrity smile. Not this time. It was easier to be himself when he had just woken up from a nap.

     “As your coach”, he said, “I’d like to know what your favourite food is, Yuuri.”

     Yuuri looked taken aback, but then he relaxed, giving Viktor a small smile of his own. He rose and opened the door to the dining room, calling down the hall in Japanese before he disappeared, leaving Viktor with Makkachin and the woman.

     “I’m Minako Okukawa”, she said, in perfect English and with the Western order of first- and last name. Viktor blinked. He knew that name, though had never had a face to match it. She was a ballerina – or had been earlier. Did that mean she was Yuuri’s ballet teacher?

     “You leaving Russia is all over the internet”, she continued. “There are rumours of you having a secret lover that made you abandon skating. And now Yuuri is saying you want to coach him?”

     “I do”, Viktor replied. Minako studied him with narrowed eyes.

     “You better be good to him”, she said and rose, towering over him, “or I’ll deal with you personally.”

     Viktor had a feeling he either never wanted to see Minako and Jenna in the same room or he desperately did. Before he could ponder this further, however, Yuuri reappeared in the door, followed by the woman who had helped Viktor earlier. She was carrying another tray of food. It smelled divine and Viktor was pretty sure he was drooling by the time the tray was placed on the table in front of him.

     “Amazing!” he exclaimed.

     “Our specialty”, the woman said and sat down by the table as well. “The pork cutlet bowl – _katsudon_. Extra large!”

     Yuuri smiled at her in a way that confirmed Viktor’s earlier suspicions; this was most likely his mother. And he cared for her deeply. The Japanese skater sat down opposite Viktor. Briefly he met the Russian’s gaze, before looking down at the table again. Viktor turned his own gaze back towards the food and picked up the chopsticks. At least he had eaten enough Asian food to not embarrass himself when picking up one of the pieces of pork and taking a bite.

     It was a taste explosion.

     That was the best way he could describe it, really. A taste explosion. He had never eaten anything like it before – every time he had been in Japan before him and his teammates had always gone for sushi or another more internationally widespread type of food. Not _katsudon_. Viktor was not sure if he regretted not having eaten it prior to this day or if he was glad he had not, because then he could say that the first time he had ever tasted it the food had been made for him by Katsuki Yuuri’s mother.

     “ _Vkusno_!” he exclaimed, before throwing dining manners aside and wolfing the contents of the bowl down.

     “I-I’m glad you like it”, Yuuri said, only glancing up at him briefly before once again looking down at the table. His cheeks had a slight hint of red, but there was a smile on his lips. A cute smile.

     “Yuuri gains weight easily, so he was only allowed to eat it when he won a competition”, Minako then said, causing Yuuri’s face to turn crimson and the smile to disappear altogether. Viktor paused and felt the other side of him – _the_ Viktor Nikiforov – push for dominance. _No_ , he thought, tensing, _no, stay back. Stay away._

     “Well”, he said, wondering if Yuuri and Minako could see how tense he actually was or if all of his years in the spotlight, learning to hide everything behind a confident, flawless facade, made it impossible to spot.

     “Well”, he repeated, “if I am going to coach you, we will have to take this off your menu. You need to get back to the weight you were at last year’s Grand Prix, at least.”

     He turned slightly away from them while removing some rice that had stuck to his cheeks and chin – and to keep the other side of him away. _The_ Viktor Nikiforov pushed and pushed, wanted him to be the unattainable playboy. Wanted him to comment more on Yuuri’s weight gain. _Give him a break_ , another voice said in his head.

     Jenna.

     Slowly the tension left his body and he was able to look back at Minako and Yuuri. The latter looked dumbstruck – like he had expected the comments _the_ Viktor Nikiforov had wanted to fling his way and now was not sure what to do with the more grounded, logical reasoning he had received instead. Viktor managed a smile.

     “You’ve lost weight since the video was recorded, yes? Since you skated my program?”

     “I... yes, I’ve... trained a bit”, Yuuri admitted.

     “Good”, Viktor said. “Tomorrow you can tell me what you have been doing and I can help you decide on what else to do, to help you get in shape.”

     Before Yuuri could reply a figure appeared in the doorway. A woman wearing a pair of red overalls and a purple hair band that pushed back her black-turned-blonde bleached hair. Viktor also noted that she had several piercings in both of her ears.

     “Hey, Mr Famous Skater Guy”, she said to him in English, before turning towards Yuuri’s mother and saying something else in Japanse. Yuuri’s mother replied, causing the woman to shrug and turn away with a wave in Viktor’s direction.

     “What did she ask?” he curiously questioned.

     “Where to put your bags”, Yuuri’s mother replied with a smile. “That was Yuuri’s big sister, Mari.”

     “He’s staying _here_?” Minako asked.

     “Yes”, both Viktor and Yuuri’s mother replied at the same time.

     “There are more things coming than those bags”, Viktor then decided to add. “They’re being shipped here – or will be, once I send a friend the address.”

     “Ah, it is a good thing I gave you the biggest room we have, then”, Yuuri’s mother said with another smile in his direction. Viktor felt as if she had somehow already adopted him into his family – and he liked that feeling. Just like thinking of Jenna had calmed him down earlier, this woman helped him feel as if he could be himself as well.

     “It was a long journey; I should probably retire for the night”, he admitted and rose, causing the three others to do the same. “Thank you – I mean, _arigato_.”

     To his surprise all three of them smiled at his attempt at speaking Japanese.

     “Yuuri will show you where you will be staying”, Yuuri’s mother said and, once again, patted him on the arm. “I hope you have a good night’s rest.”

     Then she dragged Minako from the room and, suddenly, it was just Viktor and Yuuri again. And Makkachin, who was licking what was left of the _katsudon_ from the bowl.

     “I, er, this way”, Yuuri said, a blush once again tinting his cheeks as he turned to head towards the door. Viktor followed him out of the room and could hear Makkachin follow. Other than the sound of their footsteps the walk was silent.

     Eventually they turned into a hallway that Viktor guessed was at the back of the house. The windows showed another courtyard and the still falling snow outside. There were only two doors – one at the far end of the hallway and a pair of traditional Japanese double sliding doors to their left. Yuuri pushed the double doors open, revealing a sparsely furnished room. In fact the only things there were Viktor’s bags and a sleeping pallet.

     “It... we use it as a banquet room”, Yuuri explained, not looking at Viktor.

     “It’s perfect”, Viktor assured him. After all, he would be staying here for quite some time to coach Yuuri and could always buy furniture himself. If that would be allowed by Yuuri’s family. It was their room he was renting, after all. And yes; he intended to pay them for occupying one of their inn’s banquet rooms.

     “There is a bathroom round the corner”, Yuuri said, pointing the way they had come, “and the door on the right side of the room leads to a storage closet. I’m not sure if Mari has cleaned it out, but...”

     “Yuuri”, Viktor said, causing the Japanese man to fall silent again, “it’s perfect. Thank you.”

     Yuuri turned to look at him and, once again, looked uncertain of how to react to this Viktor – the Viktor who was not the aloof ice-skating legend who could not be reached by any mortal man. That was actually how a few magazines had described him and Viktor was all too happy to apply that description to his celebrity persona.

     “While discussing your training tomorrow, show me around”, Viktor continued, smiling slightly at the slightly shorter man. “I want to know everything there is to know, about Hasetsu and you. As your coach I do need to know you, don’t I?”

     He tested the waters and reached out to touch Yuuri’s arm. The other man did not move and Viktor slowly slid his fingers down to grasp his hand.

     Yuuri must have jumped at least four feet back at that moment, face beetroot red. Viktor blinked in utter shock.

     “What is it?” he asked. “Did I say something?”

     “Uh, no. Nothing. It’s nothing. I... I just... I should get some sleep. You should too. Yes, we should both go to sleep. Good night!”

     With those words he turned and ran towards the door at the end of the hallway. Not until he had disappeared behind it did Viktor realize that that door was not just any door. It led to Yuuri’s room.

     Realization number two was that Yuuri had just rejected him again.

     It did not hurt as much as it had in Sochi. Actually, it did not hurt at all. It made him curious. There was something about how Yuuri had reacted to every little moment they had had since Viktor’s arrival that made the Russian skater wonder if, perhaps, he was just afraid of rejection himself.

     He wandered into the room that was, by now, his and sat down on the bed pallet, took out his phone and called Jenna. She picked up after two signals.

     “Should I speak Japanese to you by now?” she said as a way of greeting. Viktor was unable to answer at first; hearing her voice, her _actual_ voice and not something his mind had conjured up, almost made him cry. And it made him feel slightly homesick.

     “Hello”, he managed to say, after which it was Jenna’s time to pause.

     “Are you alright, Viktor?” she then asked.

     “I’m... alright”, he conceded. “I wish you’d come with me.”

     “That bad?”

     He chuckled.

     “No. Good. It’s good. I’m staying at Yuuri’s family’s inn. They’re kind and good people. Which is why you should be here as well.”

     He did not say that he believed that, whatever she was running from, she would be safe here. He did not need to. She understood.

     “I miss you, Viktor”, she admitted. “The apartment’s quiet without you and Makka.”

     “I can still get you tickets here”, Viktor once again offered.

     “The answer’s still no.”

     He had expected that. It would probably take a lot to change Jenna’s mind about coming here. He would simply have to try to convince her by telling her of all of the amazing things – real or unreal – that he hoped would happen here during his stay.

     “So how’s Yuuri?” Jenna asked.

     “Shy. Nervous. Definitely not up to the things he did in Sochi. And I think he expected someone else.”

     “Someone else?” Jenna asked. Viktor could practically hear her brow creasing into a frown.

     “My celebrity persona.”

     “You have one of those? I thought the papers were exaggerating your aloofness.”

     “No, they do not. At least not that side of me. I hate it – and you would, too.”

     “And Yuuri?”

     “He expected that person – and that was who I became.”

     Jenna sighed.

     “At first”, Viktor quickly continued. “Then... I managed to push it away. Managed to be me.”

     “What did you do that helped you push it away, then?” Jenna asked.

     “I slept.”

     “And?”

     Viktor closed his eyes and prayed – really prayed – that she would not take his next words the wrong way.

     “I dreamed about you.”

     Jenna was silent.

     “Not in that way!” he continued. “You know I wouldn’t... you know I’m not... you know.”

     “I know”, she replied. Her voice was quieter than before.

     “You keep me level-headed, Jen”, Viktor explained. “You keep me from becoming... that person. At one point I even thought I heard your voice in my head, arguing with this other me and forcing it back. And it helped.”

     “That’s good”, Jenna said. “I’m glad to hear that.”

     It did not sound like that.

     “Jenna, it was nothing like that”, Viktor sighed. “I promise.”

     “No, no, I know”, Jenna replied. “It’s just... you saying that kind of makes me wish even more that I could go.”

     “Why can’t you?”

     For a few, quiet seconds Viktor actually thought he would get an explanation. He did not.

     “It’s quite late in Japan now, isn’t it?” she instead said. “You should get some sleep, get into the time zone. Start your new life as a coach. And...”

     She paused, then sighed.

     “And I will try to find a way to come see you. I promise.”

     “Good”, Viktor said. “My offer still stands.”

     “I know. Hey, before you go, what address should I ship your things to?”

     Viktor had almost forgotten about that, about the boxes crowding Jenna’s living room. He quickly checked the flyer that had brought him to the _onsen_ in the first place and found the English version of the address (the only piece of English on the flyer). Once Jenna had it written down they both fell silent again.

     “I’ll keep you updated”, Viktor eventually said, “as promised.”

     “You better”, Jenna replied. “Give Makkachin some cuddles from me, would you?”

     “Of course.”

     Another pause.

     “Good night, Viktor”, Jenna said.

     “Good night, Jenna.”

     She hung up first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry that this took so long! I don't know how the weeks have passed by this quickly and how I've basically gotten none of the things I've set my mind to do done. Including this. Thank God for good piano music that helped me get this done!  
> And yes; I did change a few things in this chapter compared to how the actual show plays out. Didn't intend to do that when I started this story, but I feel like with the new character (Jenna) the Viktor I'm writing needed a different take on a few things. Hope you're all still enjoying it!
> 
> As always, kudos/bookmarks/comments are absolutely amazing to see and spurs me on! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Oh.”_   
>  _Viktor’s eyes flew open when Yuuri made that quiet, surprised noise upon entering the room._   
>  _“Is everything... are you... what are you doing?” the Japanese man asked._   
>  _“Gathering my strength”, Viktor replied with a smile. “Did the reporters harass you a lot on your way here?”_   
>  _“No”, Yuuri replied and shook his head. “No, they didn’t mind me.”_   
>  _Viktor could hear the unspoken words. **They never do.**_

**Hasetsu, April 2013**

* * *

Yuuri was still quiet and shy – and intent on keeping a certain distance from Viktor – the next morning, but he still managed to talk enough to make Viktor decide on a training regime. First of all he decided that there would be no skating practices for Yuuri until he had dropped some more weight – not because he thought he was too fat for it, but because Yuuri needed that motivation. That much became clear every time the topic of skating came up, which it did often enough, seeing as they were a pair of skaters. Yuuri obviously loved to skate and making him hold off on it until he had reached a certain goal weight seemed like the ultimate motivator.

     It worked. Yuuri made no complaints. From that very first morning he also insisted on Viktor taking his bike when they headed to the skating rink – and forced himself to run at the same pace. Nor did he complain when Viktor told him to run up the stairs surrounding the mountain behind the skating rink to reach the old Japanese castle atop it, or when he made him do physical exercises in the park outside the castle, or when they headed back to the _onsen_ in the same fashion. Then Yuuri would head, alone, to Minako’s ballet studio for an hour more of training. The younger man was utterly spent in the evening and nearly fell asleep at dinner (not _katsudon_ , per Viktor’s request), but Viktor was honestly surprised he had not done that sooner. Even overweight by skater standards Yuuri’s stamina was incredible.

     Such a stamina would do him a world of good in competitions. If you placed difficult jumps at the end of your program, they gave you a higher score as you had already tired yourself by then. Someone with Yuuri’s stamina would be able to do those jumps without risking injury.

     On their third work-out day Viktor told Yuuri to do their usual run and physical exercises by the castle alone, allowing him to go onto the ice. Testing it. The rink was small and run-down compared to the one he was used to, but somehow it felt better. He did not have to zone things out the way he had to when practicing in Russia, when the whole team was there to watch him. Sure, he had people watching him here as well; Yuuri’s friend Yuuko and her husband managed the rink and their three daughters – triplets – were already ice skating experts. Apparently they were the ones who had filmed, edited and uploaded Yuuri’s skating video – without his knowledge. Once he took to the ice that day they all begged to film him skate. He allowed them to – but ordered them not upload it. So far no one seemed to know that this was where he was and he kind of liked that peace and quiet.

     Thus a new daily routine begun. Viktor would bike to the rink, with Yuuri running next to him. Once there Yuuri would do some warm-up exercises with Yuuko’s husband, Takeshi, before heading up to the castle alone, while Viktor took to the ice. This continued for five more days before Viktor decided to take a break from skating and follow Yuuri up the stairs.

     He found his student doing jumps onto one of the stone benches in the park outside the castle, then switching so that he started with one foot already on the bench and the other hanging down the side of it before jumping. Viktor knew Yuuri had seen him coming – mainly because Makkachin had accompanied Yuuri up to the park and now ran at his owner, barking happily, but also because Yuuri always changed somewhat whenever he realized Viktor was watching him. He tensed.

     Viktor approached him like one would a frightened animal, walked around him and sat down on the opposite side of the bench, without saying a word. Instead he looked out over Hasetsu, his new home, and listened to Yuuri continuing his jumps. He counted fifteen jumps before Yuuri paused and moved to change to jumping on his other foot.

     “Is there a girl out there that you like, Yuuri?” Viktor asked then. Yuuri froze.

     “No”, he said and turned around to face Viktor.

     “Any ex-girlfriends, then? Or boyfriends?”

     “What? Why... no comment!”

     Viktor smiled.

     “Relax, Yuuri”, he said. “I’m trying to figure something out for you.”

     “For me?”

     “For your short program.”

     Yuuri blinked.

     “You did not think I would just push you to do all of these exercises and not let you skate a program eventually, did you?” Viktor chuckled. “Your programs must be about something you can relate to.”

     “Oh”, Yuuri said and sank down so that he sat on the bench, “my old coach did not tell me that. He told me what to think of when skating and I did that.”

     “Yakov tried to do that to me”, Viktor admitted. “It worked for a year or two. Then I had to do things my own way.”

     Yuuri did not reply and they ended up looking out over Hasetsu together. The snow that had fallen the night of Viktor’s arrival had melted away and once again spring was in the air, making the town shimmer in pink with all of the cherry trees in bloom.

     “Yuuri”, Viktor then said and turned around to look at the castle behind them, “what is that castle?”

     “Oh, that’s Hasetsu Castle”, Yuuri replied and turned as well. Then, to Viktor’s surprise, the Japanese man smiled a lopsided, teasing smile and lowered his voice.

     “Legend has it that there is a secret ninja house hidden inside of it.”

     Viktor had to be lying if he said that voice combined with that smile did not send shivers down his spine, but he was able to cover up that reaction by the excitement he felt at hearing this supposed legend.

     “Really? Ninjas?”

     “Yes”, Yuuri said with a grin. Viktor rose at once.

     “Let’s go!” he called and took off. He did not even look around to see if Yuuri followed; for some reason he already knew the other man would. They ran through the park to the stone walls of surrounding the building, surprising several Japanese tourists taking a tour of the place.

     “Yuuri, can we take a photo in front of it?” Viktor asked. The smile that had been on Yuuri’s lips seconds before disappeared and he looked down at himself.

     “Oh, I... I’m not... I can take a photo of you and Makkachin?”

     Viktor felt somewhat disappointed at this answer. However, he felt like he was making progress. There was no way Yuuri would have given him that smile, would have looked happy after running after him, if Viktor was not doing something right.

     “Alright”, he therefore said and crouched down next to Makkachin, who was panting happily. Yuuri snapped the picture and while walking back down to the rink Viktor busied himself with uploading it to his Instagram account. _#Ninja!_ he wrote as a caption.

     Not until the next morning did he realize he had forgotten to turn off the location function on his account – and that his week of peace and quiet was gone as reporters from all over the world suddenly stormed the _onsen_.

     He felt like an idiot. The biggest idiot in the whole world. He apologized over and over again to Yuuri’s parents when they came up to tell him and Yuuri about the incident. They both took it in stride and commented on the fact that this actually caused them to suddenly have a lot more customers and kept them from going broke. Viktor had not heard of that before; the _onsen_ had always seemed to have a lot of visitors, but Yuuri’s mother – Hiroko – gently explained that they were all locals. They had no need to stay at the inn; they simply came to take a bath or eat a meal. Now the inn was being used as it should.

     This still did not lessen Viktor’s feelings of guilt. He stayed in his room all morning, contemplated calling Jenna and asking her what to do – even though it was the middle of the night for her. He heard Yuuri head away from the _onsen_ alone. Viktor hoped that Yuuri would be able to blend in and do his exercises alone, without being accosted. Of course, Yuuri knew this city like the back of his own hand. He would know where to go if he wanted to run alone.

     Viktor did not.

     “Fuck”, he muttered to himself and flopped down onto the bed. “Idiot. Fucking idiot.”

     A text from Yuuko – possibly sent by one of the triplets – let him know that there were a ton of reporters at the rink as well. _What do we do?_ it said. Viktor stared at the screen for a few moments before he sat up and texted back.

     _I’ll be there soon._

     This was his mess and he needed to deal with it. He was Viktor Nikiforov. _The_ Viktor Nikiforov, even though he did not want to always be that person. He could handle a bunch of reporters.

     He got dressed in his work-out clothes and then did something he had never done before; he headed into Yuuri’s room. It was small and very sparsely decorated, he noted. With a frown he wondered if the walls had always been this bare, then squinted his eyes at them. There were patches of differentiating colours all over them, he realized, where something had been hanging long enough to get the rest of the wall bleached by the sun. He wondered what those things had been. Posters, perhaps?

     He decided to ask Yuuri about it, eventually, then opened the window above his student’s bed. The reason why he went for this window and not any of the ones in the corridor was that outside of this window – which was on the second floor – was a roof of some of the _onsen_ baths. Simply put; this was an easier and more comfortable way of getting down onto the ground.

     Once outside he pulled up his hood and snuck around to the front, made sure that none of the reporters was out there at the moment, then sprinted for the road. He could hear some of them notice him and shout his name, obviously intent on following. _Good_ , he thought and lengthened his stride, _follow my lead. I have some things to tell you._

     He set off towards the skating rink, shouted his usual _konichiwa_ to the fisherman who always stood on the bridge linking the castle’s island and mainland Hasetsu, then took some time outside of the rink to catch his breath. The flock of reporters that had been following him was just crossing the bridge. He smiled his best smile at them and waved, before heading inside.

     The entrance hall was crammed with reporters and cameramen with their equipment. As one they all turned and started bombarding him with questions. He simply smiled and allowed them to take some pictures before he raised his hands. By then the reporters from the _onsen_ stood behind him, doors pulled wide open in order to see – and hear – him.

     “Friends”, he said, “is this what our relationship has come to?”

     No one spoke. They were hanging on his every word – and they all inhaled sharply when his smile turned into a hard line.

     “Or do I need to issue a restraining order against all of you?”

     There were a few hushed whispers, but they all quieted down when he spoke once more.

     “While I was competing, you always respected my privacy. I would appreciate if you do the same now. This place is just as private as the rink in St Petersburg and you all know what would happen if any of you snuck in there. The _onsen_ is a place of relaxation. If you intend to be there, then rent a room, buy some dinner. The _katsudon_ is delicious!”

     He gave them a smile at that point.

     “Only if you all do that, and if you tell people who follow you to do that, will I answer accept being interviewed. Is that clear?”

     When no one moved he sighed dramatically and pulled out his phone.

     “I really do not want to”, he muttered while he dialled a number. In a rush the reporters in the hall suddenly pressed past him out to the ones waiting outside. Viktor grinned and cancelled the call – which was to his own phone and thus would not even have connected in the end – and turned around to face them.

     “Good. Now behave for another week and then we’ll see.”

     Then he closed and locked the door. As it was made of glass he decided not to let out a deep, relieved sigh, sink to the floor or rub his face. He needed to appear steadfast, stoic. Untouchable. Therefore he simply waved at the shocked family by the counter and walked into the changing room, where he finally slumped to the ground and leaned back against the lockers, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

     “Oh.”

     Viktor’s eyes flew open when Yuuri made that quiet, surprised noise upon entering the room.

     “Is everything... are you... what are you doing?” the Japanese man asked.

     “Gathering my strength”, Viktor replied with a smile. “Did the reporters harass you a lot on your way here?”

     “No”, Yuuri replied and shook his head. “No, they didn’t mind me.”

     Viktor could hear the unspoken words. _They never do_. Yuuri was invisible to them. He was the guy who somehow managed to reach the Grand Prix last year, then flunked everything, then became an internet success with that video – which should have made him very interesting but somehow did not. He was still a common skater in their eyes.

     Not in Viktor’s eyes. Sure, he had not even seen Yuuri skate since watching that video, but he still knew. He _knew_ that Yuuri could skate and that what he showed in the short program of last year’s Grand Prix – the program he did not fail completely – was only a fraction of what he could do. All it would take would be the right program, the right mindset, and the right coach.

     Viktor was intent on making everyone see what he saw.

     “They won’t bother us – any of us – anymore”, he said and stood up. “I made sure of it. I told them to rent a room if they want to stay at the _onsen_ , not just sit around – and to stay out of the rink. Give it a few days and that will have spread to everyone, not just these.”

     “I thought you’d like them”, Yuuri said. “I mean, maybe not, but you...”

     “I like my peace and quiet as much as anyone. And having reporters cover your every move isn’t good for anyone.”

     _Not even me_ , he wanted to add, but in the end he kept those words quiet. Maybe Yuuri would understand that anyway.

     “As long as they do not take notice of you, you should keep up your training”, he said, averting his gaze. “If they do, use the gym here instead. I think I’ll have a harder time blending in, so...”

     “I know.”

     Viktor looked up and found Yuuri looking at him without shying away. Steady and even, and for a long time neither of them spoke, lost in that shared gaze. In that quiet communication. Eventually, though, Yuuri turned away and moved towards the door leading into the gym. Once the door closed between them Viktor let out a breath he had not even realized he had been holding and plucked his skates from the locker that had become his. He needed to relax – and skating without the pressure of having to do well had always helped.

     After that day, Yuuri kept working out completely on his own, leaving the _onsen_ ahead of Viktor and coming back after he did. Sometimes they ran into each other at the rink, but most of the time Viktor’s first meeting with the younger man was when they both relaxed in the outdoor _onsen_ pool. The first time Yuuri had joined him there he had kept to the opposite side of it, ignoring Viktor completely and instead leaning his head against the stone, exhausted. The casualness of it all made Viktor wonder where the shy Yuuri had gone, before he realized that Yuuri had grown up here, had probably been bathing here – among naked strangers – since he was a small child. Thinking Yuuri should have any trouble bathing with him made Viktor wonder if the other him – _the_ Viktor Nikiforov – had taken over and put him up on a high pedestal once again.

     After that first evening, however, it became a thing. The outdoor _onsen_ became, in a sense, theirs. No one else ever occupied it whenever the first of them – usually Viktor – arrived, as if there was an invisible sign somewhere telling people that the pool was reserved for them. On the second evening they begun to discuss what had happened to the two of them on that particular day – Viktor’s consisted of telling off another group of reporters, Yuuri’s consisted of working out. By now he had basically reached the goal weight; in the _onsen_ Yuuri’s body was on full display for Viktor. Slimmer, with taut muscles in all the right places, and a face that once again had apparent cheekbones. Viktor still insisted on Yuuri continuing the work-out regime a few more days, before they got on the ice.

     On the fourth night in the _onsen_ Viktor could see that Yuuri was uncomfortable, that something was wrong. The way he moved his right shoulder made it easy enough to understand what that was – and Viktor moved to Yuuri’s side of the pool and placed a gentle hand on the shoulder in question.

     “May I?” he asked. Yuuri’s eyes widened and he looked almost ready to bolt, just like he had that first night. Then, slowly, he relaxed, nodded and turned around. Slowly Viktor started to massage the muscle in question, earning a groan from Yuuri when he applied just the right amount of pressure to the right spot. And yes, that went straight to Viktor’s groin.

     “Take it easy tomorrow”, he said when he moved away, hoping that the water and dim light covered just how aroused he was by that sound and by the feeling of Yuuri’s skin beneath his hands. Yuuri simply nodded, without looking at Viktor, and they remained quiet for the rest of the night.

     A full week after Hasetsu had been attacked by reporters, Viktor headed to the skating rink alone, shooed off some reporters and headed inside to practice. There were fewer reporters now; the ones who remained seemed to camp somewhere close to the rink. Very few were at the _onsen_ – and those who were had followed Viktor’s orders and booked rooms. Hiroko was beaming every time he saw her, beyond happy to see all of the new customers.

     But the rink was quiet, just the way he liked it. There was just him and the ice. And, later today, Yuuri.

     They had not spoken much since that evening in the _onsen_ pool. Honestly, Viktor was not quite sure what he could say to make Yuuri relax. If the other man was not interested in him the way he had been at the banquet, then this could really make things awkward between them. If he was, but somehow did not know what to make of it, then Viktor needed to take things slow. He had to tread carefully.

     But today Yuuri would skate with him for the first time since Viktor’s arrival. He had been beaming that morning when Viktor told him to go on his morning run, then meet him at the rink for on-ice practice. And if there was one thing Viktor wanted to do as much as possible it was to make Katsuki Yuuri smile that way.

     This morning, Viktor decided to skate the short program he had begun to prepare for himself earlier that year, when he had still planned to skate in the next season. It was what he now hoped to see Yuuri skate – or at least a version of it. Yuuri’s version. He was confident that the Japanese man would be able to do it and that he might even be able to add the quad flip into it.

     Halfway through the program, Viktor paused and considered the step sequence he had just gone through. If he was going to let Yuuri do this program, the step sequence could be better. He had seen Yuuri’s step sequences in the Grand Prix Finale last year and they had been brilliant. Hell, Viktor was not even sure he could do them half as good himself!

     “You look like you’re doing great, Viktor!”

     It took everything in his power not to jump in shock at the sound of that voice – speaking to him in Russian – and instead, calmly, turn towards the speaker. A blond teenager, standing just inside the doors to the rink next to Yuuri.

     “Yuri”, Viktor said with a smile, “you’re here? I’m surprised Yakov let you come.”

     The teenager narrowed his eyes and seemed about to let out a growl at that. Apparently Yakov had not let him come; he had run. Just like Viktor. But why?

     “What do you want, then?” Viktor asked. Yuri Plisetsky, Junior World Champion, froze and stared at him. _Shit_ , Viktor thought and ransacked his mind. He knew that look.

     “I’m guessing I forgot some promise I made?” he said and scratched the back of his head.

     “You bet you forgot something, you idiot!” Yuri yelled. “You’re supposed to fucking choreograph my first senior program!”

     Well, now that he mentioned it, Viktor did remember making that promise last spring, when he had first met Yuri Plisetsky. The boy had been practicing for a local junior competition with Yakov and had done a quad instead of a triple, which Yakov had not approved of. Yuri had shaken off Yakov’s argument that his body was still developing and thus would not be able to handle quads, obviously feeling like Yakov was holding him back. Viktor had, instead, issued him a challenge; win the Junior World Championships without quads and Viktor would choreograph Yuri’s senior debut program.

     Something he had completely forgotten upon his move to Hasetsu.

     “Sorry, sorry”, he said with a sheepish smile and skated over to them, grabbed his coat and put on his blade protectors. “You know I’m the forgetful type, right?”

     “Yeah, I’m painfully aware of that”, Yuri spat out, “but a promise is a promise. You’ll choreograph my new program, Viktor! Let’s go back to Russia!”

     Viktor blinked, then glanced in Yuuri’s direction. The Japanese man met his gaze briefly, before looking away. His jaw was tense and everything about him said that he expected to be rejected. To be cast away by Viktor now that he was offered to, instead, choreograph the program of an up-and-coming star like Yuri Plisetsky.

     “You know what?” he said. “I have an idea. Tomorrow I’ll choreograph programs for _both_ of you, using the same music that I was planning to use.”

     “The same music as _him_?” Yuri exclaimed, at the same time as Yuuri gasped:

     “What? With the same choreography?”

     “Well, no, this piece has several arrangements”, Viktor admitted. “I was trying to decide for myself which one to use. There will be different arrangements – and different choreographies – for the two of you.”

     Both Yuuri and Yuri seemed to relax at hearing that.

     “We’ll then host a competition, where the two of you compete to see who can surprise the audience more”, Viktor finished.

     “Whoa, wait, let’s take a step back”, Yuuri exclaimed, paling significantly, “I don’t...”

     “Yeah”, Yuri instead said with a grin, “and Viktor will do whatever the winner asks him to do!”

     “Alright”, Viktor agreed, then glanced at Yuuri again. The Japanese skater was frantically shaking his head. _You’ll be fine_ , Viktor wanted to tell him, _you’ll do amazing, I know you will_.

     He just hoped he was right, because otherwise he had a feeling that his days living with Yuuri in Hasetsu were numbered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after not writing much for several weeks I'm suddenly 100% into this again. I wrote this chapter right after publishing Chapter 5 and I'm now going through and editing Chapter 7 (yes, that's done and will be up tonight or tomorrow) and I'm about to start writing Chapter 8.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos/bookmarks/comments - they really motivate me to keep going just as much as the show itself :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I was preparing it for you, Yuuri”, he said. Yuuri inhaled sharply, blushed, then shook his head._   
>  _“I can’t do those things.”_   
>  _“You can. I know you can.”_   
>  _“How do you know that?” Yuuri asked. “I haven’t skated since you came here and...”_   
>  _“Do you think I haven’t seen you skate before?” Viktor asked. “I saw you at the Grand Prix, Yuuri, and yes, I know, you did not do well in the free skate. But your short program was good.”_   
>  _“I... you watched me?”_

**Hasetsu, April 2013**

* * *

Yuri came with them back to the _onsen_ , glaring at everyone and everything they passed and huffing in disgust at the sight of the inn. To be fair, though, Viktor knew the teenager did that regardless of how the accommodation looked. It could be a five-star hotel and Yuri Plisetsky would still find it to be terrible.

     “What a hovel”, he muttered, “but it won’t be a fair match if you get Viktor to yourself all the time. So it has to do.”

     “It’s not like you care what I think”, Yuuri replied with a shake of his head and a hint of a smile, before heading up the stairs. Viktor smiled as well.

     “The hot springs are great, Yuri”, he said. “You should try them!”

     “I’m not going to bathe with other people!” Yuri yelled. Then he stopped and sniffed, just before his stomach let out a loud growl. _Three, two_... Viktor managed to think before the teenager shouted another demand.

     “Give me a bath, and food!”

     Hiroko was the one who escorted Yuri to the _onsen_ and seemed able to tune out the foul language the teenager sometimes used, as she simply smiled and nodded and tried to pat him on the arm on the way there – a gesture that Yuri jumped away from. Viktor let out a small chuckle and headed up to his room. To his surprise he found Yuuri there already, petting Makkachin.

     “I’m sorry about the lack of ice training today”, Viktor said when the other man looked up.

     “It’s alright”, Yuuri replied with a shrug.

     “How do you feel about Yuri being here?”

     “Alright, I guess.”

     Not the answer Viktor had expected – and most likely not even remotely true. Yuuri did not seem to like the idea of competing against the teenager even a little. To be fair, Viktor did not like the idea of possibly having to leave Yuuri behind in the event that Yuri won. He was sure that the Junior World Champion would ask for Viktor to come back to Russia.

     Viktor sat down on the couch he had acquired for his room, still looking at Yuuri and Makkachin. No, not just them; he was taking in the whole scene. The three of them, alone, in his room. It felt so natural, as if this was how it was supposed to be.

     “Your skating looked good”, Yuuri suddenly said, then seemed to realize he had actually said that out loud and blushed furiously. “I mean...”

     “I was testing something out”, Viktor replied with a smile.

     “Yuri said it was for a program you had prepared for yourself.”

     “Yes. But that’s not what I’m doing anymore.”

     He leaned forward slightly and met Yuuri’s gaze.

     “I was preparing it for you, Yuuri”, he said. Yuuri inhaled sharply, blushed, then shook his head.

     “I can’t do those things.”

     “You can. I know you can.”

     “How do you know that?” Yuuri asked. “I haven’t skated since you came here and...”

     “Do you think I haven’t seen you skate before?” Viktor asked. “I saw you at the Grand Prix, Yuuri, and yes, I know, you did not do well in the free skate. But your short program was good.”

     “I... you watched me?”

     “I watch all of my competitors.”

     “Oh. Right.”

     Viktor realized that he had actually had the opportunity to simply say yes and make Yuuri feel special, but instead he had made him feel just like everyone else. He opened his mouth to correct himself just as Hiroko called up to them that dinner was served. Yuuri got up and walked out first and Viktor let out a frustrated sigh, before composing himself and heading down as well.

     Yuri got to eat _katsudon_ that night, as a way of welcoming him to Hasetsu. Viktor had to force himself not to laugh at Yuri’s delight at the dish and how he wolfed it down – with a fork – just like Viktor had on that first night.

     “ _Katsudon_ ’s good, isn’t it?” he said. Yuri did not reply; he was busy eating.

     “You have another visitor, Yuuri?” Mari said as she came into the room. She had made it a habit to speak English whenever Viktor was around, regardless of if she was speaking to him or Yuuri or someone else. It was her own way of making him feel welcome.

     “This is also Yuri”, Hiroko introduced, smiling widely.

     “Well, that’s confusing”, Mari said, admitting what everyone else had probably felt since Yuri’s appearance in Hasetsu. “Then, from now on, you’ll be Yurio!”

     She pointed at Yuri when she said this, causing him to gape at her in confusion.

     “Where will Yurio be staying?” she then asked.

     “Oh, the room next to...”

     “To Viktor’s?” Mari gasped, interrupting her mother. “But it’s full of... oh no, I need to clean it up! Yuuri, come and help!”

     She was already halfway up the stairs when shouting the last bit to her brother, who sighed but got up all the same. Viktor followed him with his gaze, before looking back at the still confused Yurio.

     “It’s a good name, Yurio”, he said with a smile.

     “Shut up!” Yurio shouted. “That’s not my name!”

     Viktor could not help it; he laughed. Ever since he had met Yuri Plisetsky he had felt as if the boy was him as a teenager times twenty. And that made Viktor feel as if the boy was, in a way, his little brother – and Viktor loved to tease him.

     About twenty minutes later, Yurio finished his second bowl of _katsudon_ , yawned and leaned onto the table.

     “You’re going to be stiff tomorrow”, Viktor pointed out and stretched out on the floor.

     “Fuck off”, Yurio grumbled, already half asleep. Viktor chuckled and turned onto his stomach, regarding the door. Perhaps he should go and see how Yuuri and Mari were doing. Maybe he could help them clean out Yurio’s room?

     In that moment Mari showed up and started removing the dirty dishes from the table. Viktor looked behind her, expecting Yuuri to show up as well, but he did not. He pushed up onto his elbows.

     “Where’s Yuuri?” he asked.

     “He left a while ago”, Mari replied. “At a time like this he’ll be at Minako’s place or at the Ice Castle.”

     That was the name of their skating rink. Viktor frowned. Had Yuuri decided to go back and do some extra training, spurred by Yurio’s arrival? Or was this about something else?

     He pushed up to his feet and headed up the stairs to grab his shoes and coat. On the way out he glanced into the dining room and found Yurio still sleeping on the table. He was definitely going to be sore tomorrow. Viktor shook his head and walked out, grabbed the bike and took off.

     He decided to go to the bar Minako worked at in the evenings first, although he did not pin Yuuri for the drinking type. Other than at the banquet Viktor could not remember seeing the Japanese man drink even one glass of alcohol. Minako was there, certainly, but not Yuuri.

     “Mari probably meant my ballet studio”, she explained when Viktor asked. “Whenever Yuuri gets anxious, he always wants to practice. I usually go along with him to the studio, or he comes here and borrows my key, if I’m busy. And the Ice Castle has always let him practice as long as the rink isn’t booked.”

     This was news to Viktor. Growing up like this must have meant that Yuuri had a ton of opportunities to practice when others did not. Hell, Viktor could not remember the last time he had been able to just walk into a skating rink and skate without booking it earlier – regardless of if he was the World Champion or not.

     There was also the thing about Yuuri being anxious.

     Viktor had figured that out previously – at least in part – but now he wondered just what had made Yuuri so anxious tonight. He had seemed to take Yurio’s arrival in stride, even though he did not like the idea of competing against him.

     Viktor said goodbye to Minako and instead biked out to the rink. The lights were on when he arrived and he was about to head to the ice when Yuuko spotted him and instead waved him into the booth usually occupied by commentators. Her husband, Takeshi, was also there and together they watched the man on the ice outside the glass.

     Katsuki Yuuri.

     He did nothing fancy, did not attempt any jumps or step sequences. Instead he just glided across the ice, going backwards, forwards, with both feet on the ice, then just one. Lost in thought.

     “He’s always come here to practice alone”, Takeshi said with a small sigh.

     “It always made me think he really loved skating”, Yuuko admitted. “He didn’t even play with his friends; he just came here, before and after school.”

     “Well, he was never really good at making friends”, Takeshi corrected his wife. “Skating aside, he’s not  good at putting himself out there.”

     He turned to face Viktor, eyes suddenly hard.

     “I don’t want this to be the end of him”, he said. Translation: do not screw this up. Do not leave him.

     Viktor had no intention to.

     Seeing Yuuri skate – even if it was just gliding across the ice like he was now – reminded him of why he liked it himself. Why he liked skating here at Hasetsu more than he had liked skating in St Petersburg. The quiet, the intimacy. Him and the ice. Yuuri and the ice. An unbreakable bond. The ice soothed both of them when they felt unwell, uncertain, anxious or afraid.

     The difference was that Viktor was able to push those feelings aside to deal with other responsibilities until he had the time to go to the rink, while Yuuri had to get there at once. Had to get it all out before they consumed him. And once on the ice, he could enthral thousands. Millions. If he had the right program and attitude, that is.

     “A spell to change the little piggy into a prince”, Viktor murmured to himself in Russian. Both Takeshi and Yuuko looked up at him and he shrugged.

     “Nothing”, he said, then headed to the door. “ _Arigato_. Thank you for telling me about Yuuri.”

     He headed back to the inn, made sure that Yurio got up to his assigned room and slept before heading into his own. He was still lying awake in bed when Yuuri came back. The other man stopped outside of Viktor’s room, hesitated, then headed on through the hallway. Viktor wondered what he might have wanted to say. Had he wanted to tell Viktor about his secret ice skating practice? Or was it something else?

     Despite these thoughts spinning in his head Viktor managed to fall asleep and sleep dreamlessly through the night. When heading to the rink after breakfast, he – as usual – rode on the bike while Yuuri and Yurio ran after him. Yurio made a point of running faster than Yuuri.

     Once at the rink Viktor plugged his phone into the speaker Yuuko had put out for them, then turned towards the two others.

     “First, let’s have you two listen to the music”, he said and turned on the first piece. This rendition was ethereal, calming, soothing.

     “This piece comes in two different arrangements”, Viktor explained to the other two, “each with a different theme. _In regards to love: Eros and Agape_. Have you ever thought about love?”

     Yuuri shook his head, a faint blush on his cheeks, while Yurio scoffed out a denial.

     “Alright”, Viktor said, “then what do you feel when you listen to this music?”

     “It’s very clear and innocent”, Yuuri replied, “like someone who doesn’t quite know what love is yet.”

     Viktor was impressed with this explanation. It sounded like Yuuri had had these kind of conversations with his former coach – and had been asked to really analyze each piece.

     Yurio, on the other hand, scoffed again and crossed his arms over his chest.

     “I don’t like it. This innocent crap makes me want to barf.”

     _Gotcha_ , Viktor found himself thinking.

     “Okay”, he said and turned around to switch to the next piece. This one had a Spanish feel to it, was faster and more upbeat.

     “It’s like a completely different song”, Yuuri noted, frowning slightly.

     “Viktor!” Yurio said. “I want to skate to this one!”

     “The first one is _In regards to love: Agape_ ”, Viktor said instead, ignoring the teenager’s demand. “The theme is unconditional love. This one is _In regards to love: Eros_ and the theme is sexual love.”

     He paused and studied them. It seemed like Yurio was set on skating to _Eros_ and Yuuri had quite easily resigned himself to skating _Agape_. And, honestly, that would be the most logical split. Yurio was used to skating to fast-paced music, while Yuuri’s music was usually slower.

     “I’ll have you two skate to these opposing themes – and I’m assigning them like this; Yuuri, you will skate to _Eros_ , and Yurio, you will skate to _Agape_.”

     Both of his students’ jaws dropped.

     “What?” Yuuri eventually whispered.

     “No!” Yurio shouted. “Switch them!  That isn’t me at all!”

     “You have to do the opposite of what people expect”, Viktor said with a smile. “How else will you surprise them?”

     He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

     “I’m surprised you both think you can choose your own image. From the audience’s perspective you have yet to do something different – and you need to change that. I’ve choreographed programs for each of you, but if you’re not up to my standards by next week – right before the competition – I will not allow you to use them.”

     Their jaws dropped again.

     “I know you’ll both manage”, Viktor continued and smiled. For a while no one spoke.

     “Fine”, Yurio eventually grumbled, “I’ll skate to _Agape_. My senior division debut depends on it, so you’d better give me a program that’ll let me win!”

     “It’s up to you whether you win or not”, Viktor replied, giving him a challenging look. “If _I_ skated it, I’d win for sure.”

     Yurio kicked at the ice with his skate, then straightened up once more.

     “If I win, you’ll come back to Russia with me”, he said, “and you’ll be my coach.”

     Viktor had expected the first part, but not the latter. In fact he found it hard to imagine himself coaching Yurio for a longer period of time. Yakov was most likely better suited for that.

     “Sure”, he still said, then turned towards Yuuri. “What about you, Yuuri? What would you like to do if you win?”

     “I... I want to eat _katsudon_ with you, Viktor.”

     Viktor felt his eyes widen. Was this... no, it could not be. This was not Yuuri’s way of asking him out, was it? Minako had said, that first night, that Yuuri was only allowed to eat _katsudon_ after winning a competition.

     But he had specified that he wanted to eat it _with_ Viktor.

     “I want to keep on winning”, Yuuri continued, his voice steadier now, “and I want to continue eating _katsudon_ after each win. So yes, I’ll skate to _Eros_ , and I’ll give it all the eros I’ve got!”

     Viktor wondered if it would be too forward of him to skate right up to Yuuri and kiss him in that moment. It probably was, so he stuck to smiling, widely, most likely looking like a happy, love-struck fool.

     But that was what he was, was he not?

     “Great”, he still managed to say. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I just posted two chapters in one day - and three in total over the past two days! I'm getting back to writing this, alright!  
> Seriously, though; I love this story to bits. I have actually written out quite a bit of the ending already and some of the stuff there makes me think I might have to change the rating to Explicit instead of Mature. We'll see. Just warning you all that it might be a possibility!  
> Also; probably won't upload anything else until Monday at the earliest. I'm going away this weekend and I probably won't bring my computer along, so if I write anything it will be by hand and I'll then transfer it to the computer file once I'm back on Monday - and at the same time go through it and possibly upload it right away (though that depends on if I've written anything at all during the weekend, which I cannot promise I will because I'll be pretty busy).
> 
> Anyway; hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next one! As always; comments/kudos/bookmarks are absolutely amazing to see and motivate me a ton!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He stopped half-way across the bridge and stared at his phone, then scrolled through his contacts again. Below Jenna’s number was another, labelled Jenna (England)._   
>  _She could not have moved back there already. The lease on her apartment – the penthouse – was not up until late June and she had made him think she wanted nothing but to stay there, away from England, as long as possible. Moving back nearly two months ahead of schedule was not something he expected her to do._   
>  _Unless something had happened._   
>  _He typed out a quick text – When you get this, call me – and sent it to Jenna’s English phone number, before he put his phone in his pocket and continued walking._   
>  _“Please be alright”, he muttered, “please be alright, please be alright.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this being later than planned. All excuses/explanations in the notes at the end - I suggest you read them ;)

**Hasetsu, April & May 2013**

* * *

 

Viktor proceeded to send both of the younger skaters off the ice and removed his jacket.

     “We’ll add jumps later”, he told them. “They’ll depend on your own levels, of course. First we’ll make sure you can both do the basics of your individual programs. Let’s begin with Yurio’s _Agape_.”

     He handed the remote connected to his phone to Yuuri, before skating to the centre of the rink and took up his starting pose. The music soon flooded the space; even though the speaker was small and an outsider would probably say it sounded nothing  like it would in a competition, to Viktor it was everywhere. He started to move, begun the movements he had choreographed for himself when he had still thought of doing the next season. The problem with this piece was that it would have suited the theme for his last season – and he could not redo a theme. That was not his style.

     Unconditional love was a difficult thing for him to convey and he had had to consider how to do it a long time before even attempting it. He did not have a good connection to his parents anymore – they barely spoke, after all – and he did not have any significant other that made him feel like this piece prompted him to feel. The first time he had attempted it he had thought of his skater friends and of Yakov – and it had worked, at least somewhat.

     Now he thought of two other people. Jenna and Yuuri. He would sacrifice anything for either of them; one of them his best friend with a troubled past, the other the man he loved who had trouble believing in himself. And that was what unconditional love – _agape_ – was to him. Willingness to make a sacrifice to make those you love happy.

     He finished the basic choreography of the program and took a moment to compose himself before turning towards Yuuri and Yurio with a smile.

     “Kind of like that”, he said. “What did you think?”

     “Yeah, I pretty much got it”, Yurio muttered, causing Yuuri to stare at him.

     “That was amazing!” Yuuko called, having just entered the rink. Viktor waved at her in greeting, while Yurio glared as she came to stand next to Yuuri.

     “Who’s the chick?” he asked.

     “This is Yuuko”, Yuuri introduced. “She’s one of the staff here.”

     “Sorry for interrupting your practice”, Yuuko said with a smile, “but it was just so beautiful; I couldn’t help myself!”

     Yurio opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. _Well, that’s a first_ , Viktor thought with a small smile. Yuuko was hard to dislike, though, probably even for Yurio.

     “Yuuri!” Viktor called. “You’re next.”

     Yuuri nodded and adjusted his glasses, before pressing the button on the remote controller that allowed him to skip to the next piece. _Eros_.

     This choreography was what people wanted to see Viktor do, acting out the playboy, the unattainable bachelor. It was seductive, teasing, meant to drive people mad with desire – and that was why Viktor had had his qualms against doing it. It was too much even for him. If he had performed this piece he would have lost himself to the ideals of _the_ Viktor Nikiforov.

     For Yuuri, though, it was perfect. And it was Yuuri Viktor thought of while performing it today. He thought of their first real meeting at the Grand Prix banquet – which they still had not discussed – and he thought of all their moments here in Hasetsu. Moments that, to someone else, might mean nothing but that meant everything to him – and only served to feed the desire constantly burning in his gut.

     He wanted – no, he _needed_ Yuuri to see him perform this, and he _needed_ to then see Yuuri do it. Desperately.

     The piece ended and he turned towards his audience, blinked and counted them again. Only Yuuri. Where were Yurio and Yuuko? He looked around, skated a bit closer to where they had been standing and suddenly realized they were on the floor behind Yuuri. Yuuko was lying with her head in Yurio’s lap and was bleeding from her nose.

     If that was due to what Viktor had just shown them, then he was glad he had decided not to do this in front of a packed stadium.

     He turned to Yuuri again and found the younger man staring at him, pale as freshly fallen snow and mouth hanging open. Viktor was not sure how to interpret that look. Hopefully it did not mean that he had realized exactly who Viktor had been dancing for and that it disgusted him – that would be bad.

     “Yuuri?” Viktor still said, causing the Japanese man to wake from his stupor and blush furiously. “How was that?”

     “Oh, er, it was, um, very _eros_ ”, Yuuri managed to reply. Well, that was probably as good a reply as any.

     “Come out here”, Viktor told him and watched as Yuuri did exactly that, skating up to stand in front of him. “Which quads can you land, Yuuri?”

     “The toe loop”, Yuuri replied, “and... and I can land the Salchow in practice, but never in competition. I... I think I can do it if I try, though.”

     Viktor considered this, then shook his head.

     “Perhaps later. For now we’ll stick to the basics, get you back into skating and how to do the choreography. I’ll help Yurio add the jumps to his program first.”

     Yuuri’s shoulders slumped.

     “I won’t teach you anything you can’t already do right now, Yuuri”, Viktor continued. “There is no time; the competition is a week away, and how often have you messed up in a competition? You have the skill to win. So why don’t you?”

     “Oh”, Yuuri said and lowered his gaze, wringing his hands somewhat, “well, that’s.... that’s probably... because I lack confidence.”

     “Right”, Viktor replied and skated closer. “My job is to make you feel confident in your own abilities.”

     He skated all the way up to the other skater, despite wondering if this was not madness; what he was about to do might drive Yuuri away from him for good. _Here goes nothing_ , he thought and reached up to put his hand beneath Yuuri’s chin, tilting his head up. His thumb swiped over Yuuri’s lower lip and Yuuri’s eyes widened, his breath coming in shallow gasps and mingling with Viktor’s.

     But he did not move away.

     “No one knows your true _eros_ , Yuuri”, Viktor whispered. “Perhaps not even you; maybe it’s a side of you that you’re unaware of. But I want you to show it to me. And soon. Can you?”

     Yuuri’s lips parted somewhat, as if he wanted to answer but no words came.

     “Hey!”

     The shout cut through their own private sphere and Viktor took a step away, let go of Yuuri’s chin and turned to face Yurio instead.

     “Weren’t you going to teach me first?” the teenager called, glaring at Yuuri. Viktor forced himself to smile and nod.

     “Right.”

     Then he turned back to the still stunned Yuuri.

     “Think long and hard about what _eros_ is to you, Yuuri”, he said. Then he skated off to help Yurio, who seemed oblivious to what had just happened between the two other men in the hall.

     Throughout the day both skaters worked on their separate programs, with Yuuri focusing on only the basics and Yurio being able to add a few jumps. The teenager was confident in his abilities and had all of the sequences right after just a few turns, but Viktor still had him run through the program again and again – with and without jumps – because Yurio had missed the most essential thing.

     He could perform the moves, but he did not convey _agape_ through them.

     Yuuri, on the other hand, had trouble finding his footing on the ice once more. He was wobbly in even the smallest sequences, too stiff and too low on confidence. Everything about him screamed that he did not believe he could perform this program.

     The same thing happened the next day, and the next, and the next. If the two competitors were getting frustrated it was nothing compared to how Viktor was starting to feel. He wanted Yuuri to succeed so that he could stay in Hasetsu – and he wanted Yurio to succeed because it had become apparent to Viktor that the teenager really needed to understand what _agape_ meant. And that everything in life was not about being able to nail difficult jumps, which Yurio sometimes seemed to think.

     To make matters worse – in Viktor’s mind – his and Yuuri’s alone time in the _onsen_ was now shared with Yurio, and both skaters were exhausted to the point of falling asleep in the pool every night. On more than one occasion they both ended up sleeping at the dinner table. After their fourth practice day Viktor started to feel like he could just as well head up to his own room and eat – and was about to do that when Yuuri suddenly gave up a shout.

     “I get it now! _Katsudon_! That’s what _eros_ is to me!”

     Viktor stared at him, then at his bowl of food and wondered if perhaps he had also fallen asleep and was having a strange dream due to eating too much. Then Yuuri blinked, groaned and fell back.

     “Sorry”, he mumbled. Yurio, having woken up from his own dinner nap, chuckled.

     “Well”, Viktor said and put his food bowl and chopsticks down, “let’s go with that, then. It’s nice and unique.”

     Yuuri blushed furiously, then pushed away from the table and disappeared. Makkachin bounded after him and soon Viktor could hear the door leading out open and slam shut. Another late work-out session.

     Yuuri was still embarrassed about the whole idea of _katsudon_ representing _eros_ to him the next day, but Viktor insisted that they should at least try. And, as Yuuri started to skate, there was something different about his movements. A hint of something. Maybe _katsudon_ would actually work for him.

     Yurio had not found his _agape_ yet, though, and time was running out. Fast. Viktor had tried sending him to a nearby temple – twice – just to see if perhaps the monks there could help the teenager understand what self-sacrifice could mean, but it yielded no result. Two days before the competition Viktor decided on a different route and sent both skaters to meditate beneath a nearby waterfall. Yuuri grumbled that he should not have to go; he had found his _eros_. And, yes, he probably would not benefit from the treatment as much, but Viktor did not want to send Yurio away alone.

     And this also freed up his own afternoon.

     He had spent so much time training Yuuri and Yurio that he had not had time to send more than text updates to Jenna this past week, so he decided to call her first thing once he got out from the rink. To his surprise the call disconnected at once. Viktor took the phone from his ear and stared at it, made sure that he had actually pressed the right number in his contacts. Then he tried again.

     Still it disconnected.

     “What?” he mumbled and tried again. Another disconnect. In fact there was even a voice telling him – in Russian – that the number had been cancelled.

     Viktor could not believe that Jenna would somehow have had her phone number changed and not told him about it. He just could not. It was impossible. He had changed his to a Japanese number once he moved here and he had told her, right? So why would she...

     He stopped half-way across the bridge and stared at his phone, then scrolled through his contacts again. Below Jenna’s number was another, labelled _Jenna (England)_.

     She could not have moved back there already. The lease on her apartment – the penthouse – was not up until late June and she had made him think she wanted nothing but to stay there, away from England, as long as possible. Moving back nearly two months ahead of schedule was not something he expected her to do.

     Unless something had happened.

     He typed out a quick text – _When you get this, call me_ – and sent it to Jenna’s English phone number, before he put his phone in his pocket and continued walking.

     “Please be alright”, he muttered, “please be alright, please be alright.”

     Part of him tried to reason that Jenna had just decided to move back early because she had gotten a job or had met someone that she wanted to spend more time with – maybe even date – or that the apartment reminded her too much of the fact that Viktor and Makkachin had moved away (yes, that was wishful thinking). She had probably simply forgotten to tell Viktor about moving back so soon. Before the day was done she would call him back, apologize for not telling, explain everything, make him laugh and realize that everything was fine. The only difference was that there was now a bigger time gap to take note of.

     Another part of him – the bigger part – kept flashing back to all the hints of Jenna running from something. Of being afraid of something that awaited her back in England, that she would have to eventually go back to. And those moments, those hints, made Viktor feel like something was terribly, terribly, _terribly_ wrong.

     Once across the bridge he decided not to go back to the Katsuki family’s inn just yet. Instead he steered towards one of the local restaurants – _Nagahama Ramen_ – that he had found since his move here. Other than serving delicious ramen noodles, they also had a good price on alcohol – and he needed a drink right about now.

* * *

When Viktor woke up the next day he regretted ever heading to _Nagahama Ramen_ the night before. His head was pounding and he had trouble remembering how he had even managed to get back home. Someone must have given him a ride, he guessed; by now he was well-known by the people of Hasetsu and several had tried to challenge him to drinking games the night before. He knew he had beaten at least five, then his memory was too blurry to recall if he had managed to defeat even more.

     He groaned as he turned over onto his back, then reached out and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He had to squint in order to read what was on the screen.

     The clock read _9:37am_.

     “Fuck”, he said to himself and dropped the phone onto the mattress. Yuuri and Yurio had most likely already headed to the rink. Were they waiting for him to arrive?

     Were they killing each other?

     He hoped not.

     A glance at his nightstand revealed that someone had placed a glass of water and an aspirin there as well. Most likely Yuuri’s mother. He swallowed the pill and downed the water, forcing himself to sit up against the headboard as he did. The world was spinning around him, but he needed to get back to work. He needed...

     Jenna.

     His eyes snapped open and he grabbed for his phone again. There were five missed calls and four texts, all from her. He must have been too drunk to realize he was receiving them last night.

     He opened the first text.

     _Tried to call you, is everything alright?_

Second text.

     _Damn it, Viktor, if you tell me to call you then I bloody well expect you to pick up!_

     Third text.

     _Is this about me not telling you about England?_

     Fourth text.

     _Fine, be angry. Call me when you’ve finished!_

     Viktor pressed the dial button at once.

     There were three signals before someone picked up.

     “Well, it’s about time”, Jenna growled – yes, growled – in his ear. “What the hell, Viktor?”

     He burst out laughing.

     “Viktor, what the...”

     “Sorry”, he managed once his laughter had died down, “it’s just... it’s good to hear your voice again.”

     “Well, you ain’t hearing that much unless you explain what’s going on”, Jenna replied. “You send a text to my English phone number, asking me to call once I see it, and then you don’t pick up? I thought you’d gone and drowned yourself or something!”

     “In alcohol”, Viktor said. “I’m sorry, Jen; I didn’t reply because I was getting drunk.”

     She was silent for a long time after that.

     “Bloody hell”, she then muttered, “dare I ask why you even did that?”

     “Because I was scared something had happened to _you_ ”, Viktor replied, his earlier mirth disappearing altogether. “When I tried to call you and the call just disconnected... Jenna, what happened? Why are you already back in England?”

     The silence stretched and stretched, until Viktor had to take the phone from his ear just to make sure that the call had not broken off. It had not.

     “It’s my dad.”

     Jenna’s voice was quiet. There was a secret message hidden in her tone, he just knew it, but he could not decipher it. Especially not with a terrible hangover.

     “He had a heart attack”, Jenna continued.

     “Is he alright?” Viktor asked. He did not ask the opposite – did not dare to ask if her father had not survived. Other than the fact that Jenna’s father had been the one to lease the apartment he did not know anything about the man, but the fact that Jenna had gone back to England early because of this made him hope that her father had not been the reason for her running away.

     “He will be”, Jenna replied. “He just needs to take it easy, needs people to help him... take care of things.”

     “You make him sound like a Mafia boss”, Viktor pointed out. That made her laugh slightly.

     “So everything’s alright?” he continued. “You’re... alright?”

     “I’m alright.”

     There was that tone again – that tone that spoke of secrets and hidden meanings and all the things that outspoken, unafraid Jenna had to keep away from the surface. Why he did not know, but he vowed that the next time they saw one another he would figure it out. He would ask her to tell him.

     “How’s Yuuri?” Jenna then asked, changing the subject and causing Viktor to sit up straight once again.

     “Shit. Fuck. Crap.”

     “Don’t tell me you just realized you’d forgotten something important”, Jenna groaned in his ear. He put her on speaker while he hastily dressed in the same clothes he had worn the day before. Ideally he would have showered and taken out a fresh set from the wardrobe, but he had time for neither.

     “I overslept”, he said to Jenna. “Hangover. I’m supposed to be at the rink training Yuuri and Yurio.”

     “Who the hell is Yurio?” Jenna asked. Not until then did it occur to him that his texts about Yurio’s arrival might have all gone to her cancelled Russian number.

     “Yuri Plistesky.”

     “Since when is he in Hasetsu?”

     “Since he figured out it’s where I am”, Viktor replied while tying his shoes. “I promised I’d choreograph his first senior program.”

     Jenna groaned.

     “Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid, Viktor.”

     “Yuuri and Yurio – that’s Yuri Plisetsky – are competing against one another this weekend”, he explained while pulling on his jacket.

     “And?”

     He grabbed the phone, put her on normal mode and put the phone to his ear.

     “And the winner gets to ask whatever they want from me. If Yuuri wins I stay here, as his coach. If Yurio wins...”

     He paused, reality suddenly hitting him as he hurried down the stairs. Yuuri might have made most progress with the aesthetic parts of his program, but Yurio was miles ahead when it came to the difficulty of the jumps. If the exercise yesterday had worked in Yurio’s favour...

     “Fucking hell, Viktor, don’t tell me you’ll be his coach if he wins”, Jenna said.

     “If he wins, I’ll be his coach.”

     He headed outside and grabbed the bike, leading it towards the gate while Jenna was quiet in his ear.

     “Can I watch the competition somewhere?” she then asked.

     “I don’t know”, Viktor replied. “Look for it.”

     _Please watch it_ , he thought. _Please be there for me in that way._

     “I will. I’ll call you after it has ended, alright? Or text you, in case...”

     “Yeah.”

     They said goodbye and hung up. As Viktor jumped on the bike and speeded towards the ice rink he felt reality closing in on him again.

     If Yurio won he would leave Hasetsu. He would go back to Russia. He would coach Yurio. He would leave Yuuri behind.

     And Jenna would not be there to welcome him back.

     He barely acknowleded Yuuko as he hurried to the rink. Outside the doors he stopped, then took a right and instead entered the commentator’s booth again. He had seen figures out on the ice through the dimmed glass in the door, but through here he could see them properly.

     Yuuri and Yurio. Not killing each other.

     Instead Yurio was in the process of teaching Yuuri how to do a quad salchow.

     Yuuri had decided that he was going to do a quad salchow in his program and since Viktor had refused to teach him that, Yuuri had instead turned to Yurio. And the grumpy teen had decided to help him.

     Viktor did not know for how long he stood there, just watching Yuuri’s attempts at completing the jump and Yurio’s annoyed face whenever he could not, before showing how to do it properly. This was new. Not just new; it was _good_.

     If Yuuri did a quad salchow... it might work.

     Viktor felt a silly, giddy smile appear on his face as he headed out of the commentator’s booth and down to the doors leading in to the rink again. This time he pushed them both open.

     “Sorry I’m late!” he called, causing the two skaters to hurriedly part ways. Viktor did not tell them he had seen what they were doing. Instead he pushed his hair – still in disarray – out of his face and watched them practice their individual programs with a smug smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, some of these are excuses as to why this chapter was so late. One, I had trouble with the final fifth of it (from the V&J call). Two, terror attack in Stockholm happened (I'm Swedish and don't live that far from Stockholm, my sister studies there and my father works there a few days per week), which caused some personal stress. Three, Easter break happened.
> 
> Four: I'm in the process of writing an original story that I hope ( _hope_ ) I might publish later this year.  
> At the moment I'm still drafting and editing the majority of it, but I have posted the prologue and first chapter online and I am allowing people to give me feedback on that. So far I've been overwhelmed with the positive feedback I've received and I'm really, really hoping that this is the start of something amazing. If any of you guys are interested in reading this as well, let me know! It's a YA fantasy story - so not quite _Yuri on Ice_ \- but anyway; send me a message or comment if you want o read it as well :)
> 
> As for this story it is still the one I go to when I want to write fanfiction at the moment and I find it easy to write, so I should still be able to keep chapters coming reasonably often. I love this story to bits and would love to stay up way later than what's good for me writing it, and I love seeing kudos/comments/subs/bookmarks for it - makes me realize that others like what I do and makes me want to keep doing it :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m... going out.”_   
>  _“Yuuri...”_   
>  _“To Minako’s.”_   
>  _“It’s half past eleven!”_   
>  _“I need to practice”, Yuuri hissed through the door._   
>  _“You need to sleep!” Viktor hissed back._   
>  _“Do you want me to win or not?”_   
>  _Viktor opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, then opened and closed it again._   
>  _“Viktor”, Yuuri said through the door, voice softer this time, “do you want me to win?”_

**Hasetsu, May 2013**

* * *

Yurio had found it.

     He had found his _agape_. His skating was different, his posture different, his expression different. He was different. All in all Viktor knew that the excursion to the waterfall had worked and that Yurio might be able to pull this thing off and bring him back to Russia.

     Unless Yuuri nailed his secret jump.

     During the two days they had left before the competition he did not attempt the quad salchow once – and Viktor did not ask him to, as that would reveal that he had seen Yuuri and Yurio practice together. Yuuri still ventured out in the evening, though, so he might just be practicing that on his own.

     From what Viktor had seen, though, he had a feeling Yuuri actually _could_ do the quad salchow already – but he did not _believe_ he could do it and thus he failed. He needed confidence, so Viktor focused on boosting that during their practice sessions – quietly, gently, in a way he had by now learned worked with sensitive Yuuri. And he kept his fingers and toes crossed and hoped things would be alright.

     “So, what costumes will you wear tomorrow?” Minako asked the night before the competition. Viktor and his two students were dining down in the inn that night and she had decided to come and join them before her shift at the bar. Both Yuuri and Yurio jumped in surprise.

     “I had completely forgotten about that”, Yuuri said, eyes wide while he, most likely, started to go through his old costumes in his mind.

     “I didn’t bring anything”, Yurio muttered. “I didn’t think I’d be competing when I headed over here.”

     Viktor drained his beer and gave them both a quick smile.

     “Don’t worry”, he said and rose. “This way.”

     Minako, as well as the two younger skaters, frowned, then walked after him up the stairs until they reached Viktor’s room. There he pulled out four of the large boxes he had stashed away in the storeroom attached to it and tipped them over. Skating costumes spilled out all over the floor in a disarray of fabrics and colours.

     “What the...” Yurio begun.

     “I brought mine along”, Viktor explained. “All of them. Pick whatever you like.”

     Yuuri’s shell cracked as he waded into the room and grabbed the first piece of clothing he could find, then another, then a third. He did not look like the tense, anxious and shy young man he always showed for everyone else anymore; he looked like a kid in a candy store being allowed to eat as much as he wanted.

     Yurio took it slower and held one costume – turquoise and adorned with gold sequins – between his thumb and forefinger.

     “There are a lot of stupid looking ones”, he said and threw the object aside.

     “Hey, you wore this one at the Grand Prix Finale last year!” Yuuri exclaimed at the other side of the pile, holding up the pink tuxedo inspired attire. Viktor still liked that one a lot – perhaps because it was such a recent one, or perhaps because it was the costume for the program that had brought him to Yuuri.

     “Hey!” Yurio shouted at his rival. “Don’t you dare pick anything fancier than me!”

     Yuuri did not seem to hear him; he had put the tuxedo aside, on top of one of the now empty boxes, but did not seem to think it was the one meant for him and thus continued rifling through the pile. Then he inhaled sharply and pulled up something black.

     “This is from the Junior World Championships”, he said in a reverent voice. Viktor turned to face him fully and studied the costume. It was one of the oldest he had kept – and it still looked stunning. Solid black on the left half of the chest, mesh and solid black details on the right, a black and red half skirt on the right side of the hip, black trousers, and adorned with silver stones at the right shoulder and around the hip. It brought along so many memories of his win at the Junior World Championships all those years ago. How proud he had been. How happy. The costume made him smile because of that.

     “I had long hair back then”, he mused, “so my costumes always suggested both male and female gender.”

     He did not know who had suggested it, but it had felt right immediately – and it was part of what had made him reluctant to get rid of the long hair, even though he had realized that it was part of how people saw him and that he could not surprise them if he kept it. Now he watched as Yuuri held the costume in his hands, looking like he had found the Holy Grail for a long time before looking back at Viktor with a grin.

     “I take this one.”

     A short while later Yurio had also found a costume that he was satisfied with – also one of Viktor’s older, junior competition costumes. The bottom half was white and reached almost all the way up to Yurio’s chest, where it gave way to mesh and sequins. There were small, white angel wings on his shoulders and around his wrists, and black wings on his hips, going half-way down the side of his thighs. A fitting costume for his program – but not what Viktor would have imagined Yurio picking out of all of these. He wondered if Yurio had possibly spotted other costumes he wanted as well, but had ignored them for the sake of finding one that suited the program instead of his own personal taste. Or perhaps this one simply fit him better; most of Viktor’s costumes would be far too long for the teen. This one he had worn before his final growth spurt, at a time when he was more Yurio’s height.

     “You could sell all of these for a lot of money on eBay, you know”, Minako said, shaking her head at the pile while the younger skaters left the room.

     “Would you sell all of your old ballerina costumes?” Viktor asked, despite not even knowing if Minako was the kind who kept those – or if ballerina were even allowed to keep them or if they belonged to whichever stage they worked at for that specific play. Minako did not give him a straight answer, either; she simply rolled her eyes at him and bid him goodnight.

* * *

Viktor could not sleep that night. Tomorrow would decide his fate – and there was nothing else he could do to tip the odds either way. He hated not being in control.

     He groaned and rolled over on the bed, turned on his phone screen momentarily to check the time before rolling back again. Half past eleven. He needed to sleep. He could not show up at the rink tomorrow with bags under his eyes, nervously biting his fingernails because things were no longer controlled by him. The thought made him curse twice – once in Russian, then in English. He then added a curse in French, for good measure, and tried to figure out if he had perhaps heard one in Japanese somewhere that he could add to the tirade as well.

     That was when a floorboard creaked outside his room and made him bolt up in bed. He knew exactly who would be making that sound on that floorboard at this time – and usually he would have left it alone. Now, however, too much was at stake.

     “Go to bed, Yuuri!” he said, loud enough so that he knew the person outside the door could hear him, but not loud enough for anyone else to wake up because of him. The muted footsteps that had caused the floorboard to creak stopped.

     “Viktor? Are you awake? Did I wake you?”

     “I’m awake”, he replied, then rose and walked closer, pulling a shirt over his head on the way. “What are you doing?”

     “I’m... going out.”

     “Yuuri...”

     “To Minako’s.”

     “It’s half past eleven!”

     “I need to practice”, Yuuri hissed through the door.

     “You need to sleep!” Viktor hissed back.

     “Do you want me to win or not?”

     Viktor opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, then opened and closed it again.

     “Viktor”, Yuuri said through the door, voice softer this time, “do you want me to win?”

     “Yes”, he replied. He wondered if Yuuri had intended the question to sound as it did or if he also meant what Viktor found himself thinking it meant.

     _Do you want to stay here?_

     _Yes_.

     He pulled the door open to face Yuuri. There was determination in the Japanese man’s eyes, the same determination Viktor had seen when he had decided to skate _Eros_. It was such a different look from what Viktor had seen on the ice these last few days that it took him aback.

     It suited him.

     “If you want me to win you have to trust me on this”, Yuuri said. “I have an idea – but I need Minako for it. Not you.”

     That stung somewhat. Viktor was too tired to really mind it, though; he was more interested in seeing this Yuuri for a longer time period.

     “Can I go with you?” he asked.

     “No. I... let me surprise you.”

     _Oh fuck_ , Viktor thought. Who would have thought those words from Katsuki Yuuri’s lips would make him actually weak in the knees?

     “I need to get out”, Viktor said, in part to himself, in part to Yuuri. There was no way he could go straight back to sleep now.

     “I’m jogging there”, Yuuri said after a moment of silence. An invitation to come along half of the way. It was enough. Viktor quickly changed his pyjama pants for a pair of sweats and a hooded shirt, pulled on some socks and grabbed his shoes. Together they then walked through the dark inn and sat down on the stairs outside to tie their shoes.

     Then they ran.

     Neither of them spoke as they jogged side by side through Hasetsu in the middle of the night. They were simply enjoying each other’s company – and the feeling of being the only ones left in the world. Viktor found that he definitely would not mind being one of two survivors of an apocalypse if the other survivor was Katsuki Yuuri and he hoped the man running beside him felt the same. One day he promised himself he would bring that up.

     One day.

     They stopped outside of the apartment complex Minako lived in. For a while they just stood there; Yuuri seemed unsure of how to tell Viktor that this was where they parted ways and Viktor did not want to part ways. Wanted their run through their own world to continue.

     In the end, though, he was the one to sigh.

     “Don’t stay too late”, he said. “You need to sleep before tomorrow.”

     “Alright”, Yuuri replied. Then Viktor turned away from him and ran again, faster this time. He aimed for the beach. Twice he ran back and forth in the sand, before he steered his feet towards the inn again. By the time he reached his room his whole body was trembling from exhaustion.

     At least that was enough to make him fall asleep at once.

* * *

The next day the rink was flooded with people – mostly Japanese fans of Yuuri’s, but also a lot of media. The Japanese channels and papers were prioritized, though, and they were the only ones given the opportunity to interview Yuuri and Yurio, while the others were told to stand back. The man interviewing the two competing skaters looked familiar to Viktor, as all press members did by now, but he also seemed intently familiar and friendly with Yuuri. After a while he connected the face with the right name; Morooka Hisashi, figure skating enthusiast, sports commentator and event announcer. He had been the announcer of last year’s Grand Prix Finale in Sochi, together with his Russian colleague Grigoriy Antonovich.

     And he easily spotted Viktor waiting somewhat to the side and waved him over.

     “Viktor Nikiforov!” he said, dragging him up to the camera. “Give us a comment on how you are doing here in Hasetsu.”

     “Hasetsu is a great place”, Viktor answered with an easy smile and wink towards the cameras, allowing his other self to placate the people behind them and the people watching. “You should all come and visit some time.”

     “What are you doing?” Yurio hissed. “You’re making this show-off look like a tourism gig!”

     _That would have been preferable_ , Viktor drily thought. He looked between his two students. Yuuri was obviously nervous and his skin looked slightly too pale against his black track suit, but the determination from last night was still there. Yurio, on the other hand, had looked bored while being interviewed, but now his usual annoyance was back – and it was directed at Viktor.

     “You’d better be ready to evaluate our battle”, he snapped. The way he said it made Viktor realize that the teen was also nervous, but instead of showing it he hid it behind his usual anger.

     “Of course I am”, Viktor replied and led them off to the side, away from the cameras. “Now, let’s continue warming up. Press time’s over.”

     They headed back into the changing room and both competitors pulled out their headphones, sealing themselves off from the rest of the world. Viktor leaned back against the wall, watching the pair of them. How incredibly different they were, these two, yet there were also so many similarities. They both loved skating. They both trusted him enough to choreograph programs for them – and give them programs they had at first not imagined themselves performing. And they were both determined to win.

     Viktor could not picture either of them doing what he had always done prior to skating, which was sit and talk to the other skaters. Yuuri was too shy and insecure, while Yurio believed the only way to the top was to go it alone. At least that was what he had believed before. Looking at him now, seeing him glancing over at Yuuri, Viktor was no longer sure. The teen had changed during his time in Hasetsu. Only time would tell if that was something meant to continue.

     Viktor’s gaze went from Yurio to Yuuri. The dark-haired man was in his own world as he stretched, eyes distant, face void of any emotion. The earlier nervousness was gone – perhaps the music and the distance from the crowd had allowed him to focus solely on himself. Viktor made a mental note of that; it would be a good thing to remember if Yuuri had a breakdown at some point.

     Then again, this might be his first and only competition as Yuuri’s coach.

     Yurio’s burning gaze made him turn back to watch he teen and, to his surprise, Yurio had stopped jogging. Instead he simply stood there, watching Viktor with an expression that was very much not Yurio. He looked... contemplative.

     He lowered his headphones and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Yuuko came into the room.

     “Yurio-kun!” she said. “It’s almost time.”

     Yurio froze, eyes still on Viktor, before he nodded and turned around. He removed his tracksuit, causing Yuuko to squeal as she saw the costume he was wearing beneath. Yurio stared at her as she gushed on and on about the costume.

     “You look really good in it, Yurio”, she finished with a wide smile. “Good luck out there!”

     “O-okay”, Yurio managed to say. It was the first time Viktor had ever heard him stutter. The teen turned back to face Viktor again and his eyes seemed to communicate what he had not been able to say. Not until Viktor was heading after the teen towards the rink did he realize what that was.

     _He knows._

He felt numb as he walked through the final door to the rink. His face smiled at the cameras, his hand and arm waved at the crowd, but his insides were jumbled up. Yuri Plisetsky knew. Somehow he had figured out what everyone else seemed to think was the greatest mystery on the planet. Yuri Plisetsky had figured out why Viktor had abandoned skating, become Yuuri’s coach, had left everything behind in order to move to Hasetsu.

     He knew that Viktor was desperately in love with Katsuki Yuuri.

     Morooka Hisashi announced Yurio, recounted the teenager’s junior competition wins and how he now wanted to win this so that Viktor could choreograph his senior programs. Viktor forced himself to focus. He had to. He was the sole judge of this competition.

     And Yurio now knew that he might be biased, partial, because he had feelings for the Japanese skater.

     Yurio started out strong. The way he skated the program had changed so much since his first attempt. There were feelings and expressions appearing that he might have wanted to guard until forever, but that he let loose for this performance. It was beautiful. Heartbreakingly beautiful. And he landed the jumps with ease.

     But he lost the expressions midway.

     Viktor could see it, how Yurio suddenly struggled to both skate the program with ease and allow his usually guarded expression slip. _Agape_ disappeared and it was simply a high-difficult program.

     At the end of the program the crowd went wild and Viktor could not help but smile. Yurio may not have done the program perfectly from an aesthetic point of view – but it was an incredible show.

     “Yurio!” he called as he teen’s shoulder sagged ever so slightly out on the ice. The blond turned slightly to face him and Viktor felt his smile widen as he waved.

     “That”, he continued, “was the best performance I’ve seen from you so far!”

     Yurio gave him a small glare, before composing himself and smiling at the audience, thanking them and accepting their thunderous applause. But Viktor’s gaze had already drifted away, to Yuuri.

     The determination he had shown the previous night and the serenity he had displayed in the changing room were gone. Yuuri looked sickly pale, his chest rose and fell rapidly as he begun to hyperventilate, and he stumbled back from where he had stood by the side of the rink to instead stand closer to the wall. His hands went up to cover his ears, protecting them from the sound of the applause, and he screwed his eyes shut.

     Viktor did not know when he had moved, but suddenly he was standing right in front of the younger man, taking hold of his arms. Yuuri blinked and looked up, eyes wide with terror.

     “It’s time”, Viktor said. He wanted to say so much more than that, but nothing else came out. Yuuri was trembling from head to toe, but he still managed to nod.

     “I’m... I’m going to become a super tasty _katsudon_ ”, he said, “so... please watch me.”

     Then, to Viktor’s surprise, Yuuri wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tight.

     “Promise”, he whispered, “promise me...”

     “Of course”, Viktor whispered back and returned the hug. He allowed himself to take a breath of Yuuri’s scent before he continued.

     “I love _katsudon_.”

     Yuuri inhaled sharply. Perhaps he had understood Viktor’s hidden message in those words.

     _I love you_.

     Slowly they broke apart and Yuuri walked past him, removed the blade protectors from his skates and entered the ice. Morooka Hisashi announced him. And then Yuuri begun.

     In an instant he transformed, from the Katsuki Yuuri who had just had a nervous breakdown to something... more. Confidence. Determination. And a truck load of allure.

     He had shown nothing like this during practice.

     Viktor let out a low whistle as Yuuri met his gaze with a smirk so far from his usual smile that it was a wonder the whole arena did not drop down dead at that point.

     As Yuuri performed the step sequence that took up most of the program’s first half, Viktor slowly begun to understand why his movements looked so much more fluid today than they had during practice the day before. Technically they were the same movements, but they were adjusted slightly, tweaked.

     Viktor took his eyes off of Yuuri briefly and found Minako in the crowd, saw her smirk at him. Yuuri had gone to her the night before, not Viktor, because what Minako had taught him Viktor could not do.

     He could not move like a woman.

     Yuuri had changed the initial idea of the program – a man seducing a woman – to the opposite. A woman seducing a man.

     Seducing Viktor.

     In the second half, Yuuri stepped out of the quad salchow – the one Viktor had told him to make a tripple salchow, but that Yuuri had changed in secret. Viktor winced, but Yuuri continued. Unlike Yurio he did not lose his expression.

     He did not just perform _eros_ ; he was _eros_. And the crowd went wild for a second time that day when the program had wrapped up. Yuuri blinked, his newfound persona falling away, and stared in wonder at them, before a wide smile appeared on his face. Then he turned towards Viktor – and Viktor spread his arms wide with a smile to match Yuuri’s. Yuuri skated – no, flew – into the embrace.

     “That”, Viktor said in his ear, “was the tastiest _katsudon_ I’ve ever seen.”

     He then considered telling Yuuri what he needed to work on more, but stopped himself in the final moment. Not today. Not now. They could discuss that during practice.

     Because there was no doubt in Viktor’s mind about who had won this competition.

     By the time the award ceremony was about to take place, Yurio was gone. Yuuko said he had left – gone back to Russia. His bags had already been packed and he had verified his plane tickets in the changing room. Viktor was not sure what to say about that. He had thought Yurio had figured out how he felt about Yuuri in the changing room an hour earlier, but this pointed to him knowing about it longer. Much longer.

     How long had he known?

     Viktor still could not fully shake those thoughts when he climbed the podium to stand behind Yuuri. Yuuri was given flowers and a trophy that Yuuko and Takeshi had bought for the event. Morooka Hisashi came down onto the ice and asked Yuuri for a comment on his victory. Yuuri stuttered – he was not used to winning, not used to giving speeches and thanking people.

     Gently Viktor put an arm around him, fingers lightly resting on Yuuri’s right arm. And, as if by magic, Yuuri relaxed.

     “I’m going to try and win the next Grand Prix Finale with Viktor. Thank you for your continued support!”

     In the stands Minako was crying.

     Jenna’s text arrived while Yuuri was getting changed.

     _You’re staying?_

He sent a row of smiling emojis as a reply. His phone soon buzzed with another text from his friend.

     _Permission to plan your wedding?_

     _We’re not dating_ was his reply.

     _Still asking permission. It’s going to happen_

Viktor laughed and felt a weight fall from his shoulders.

     _Permission granted_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I write one of the chapters for this story I keep thinking "this is my favorite chapter that I've ever written". Same with this one. I hope you all enjoyed it as well!
> 
> Comments/kudos/subscriptions/bookmarks are all amazing to see, I'll try to update this again as soon as possible but - as stated in the end notes for chapter 8 - there are other things happening at the moment as well. But I am trying because I love this story so much!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What do you want me to be to you, Yuuri?” Viktor asked after a while. He knew he had to tread lightly. What Yuuri had just told him was only the first layer of the shell he kept around himself. The reason why he kept himself isolated, why he had trouble believing in himself, still lay buried. Push too hard and he would crack beyond repair._   
>  _“Do you want me to be a father figure?” Viktor continued._   
>  _“No”, was Yuuri’s soft reply._   
>  _“A brother, then? A friend?”_   
>  _Yuuri made a small sound, as if he could not quite decide if this was what he wanted or not. Viktor had to draw a deep breath before he uttered his next three words._   
>  _“Your boyfriend, then?”_

**Hasetsu, June 2013**

* * *

May passed in a blur and suddenly they were halfway through June – and Viktor did not know if he had ever been happier. Once more it was just Yuuri and him. Their routine from before Yurio’s arrival fell into place once more, albeit with the change that Yuuri now skated with Viktor and did not focus on losing weight as he previously had. Hours passed in the blink of an eye as they perfected Yuuri’s short program – which turned out to not be as easy as Viktor had thought it would be. After skating it against Yurio Yuuri certainly believed in his ability to do it more, but whenever Viktor set him any sort of challenge he balked. He still believed that he could not skate anywhere near the level Viktor believed.

     Jumps took longer to practice than step sequences. That was normal for everyone, of course, but for Yuuri it took way longer. He was over-thinking them, analyzing every movement his body needed to perform in order to complete the jump. At one point Viktor considered lowering his demands because he did not want to see Yuuri fall so many times in a day and then sit opposite him in the _onsen_ covered in bruises.

     “Maybe we should nix having three quads in your free program”, he said while stretching. Yuuri, who had been stretching on a nearby mat, sat up straight and stared at him.

     “But... Viktor, I can’t win the Grand Prix Finale if I don’t have them!”

     “Sure you can”, Viktor replied and straightened as well. “Get a perfect score on your program components and you’d only need one quad to win.”

     Yuuri stared at him, then turned away and rose in one fluid movement. When he exited the room Viktor suddenly realized that Yuuri might have thought he did not have faith in his abilities.

     “Shit”, Viktor muttered to himself before getting up and following Yuuri. The other man did not say a word as they headed back home, or when they got ready for the _onsen_ , or when they entered the _onsen_. He did not even look straight at Viktor. After a while Viktor just could not take it anymore.

     “Yuuri, do you know why I decided to become your coach?”

     The dark-haired man glanced up briefly, then shrugged. Viktor slowly moved around the _onsen_ , until he sat close enough to touch Yuuri’s hand beneath the water. The other man jumped in surprise, but did not move away. Instead he turned, eyes wide, to look at Viktor. Viktor smiled.

     “I was drawn to you because of the music”, he said. “The way you skate... it’s like your body is creating it. I want to create a high-difficulty program to maximize that – to show everyone who doubted your abilities after last year’s Grand Prix finale what you can do.”

     His gaze drifted briefly to Yuuri’s lips. They never had kissed after the banquet – not properly, anyway. There had been lips on throats, lips on cheeks, on collarbones, but not lips on lips.

     They also had not talked about that incident yet.

     “I...” Yuuri begun.

     “You can”, Viktor interrupted, knowing full well that Yuuri was about to deny his abilities. “The short program validated it.”

     When noises were heard from the indoor baths, signalling that people were moving about in there and possibly passing the glass doors leading to their enclosure, Viktor slowly moved away from Yuuri. He was reluctant to, but he had a feeling that if he had stayed in the same spot he would have ended up embarrassing the other man. Yuuri looked puzzled, as if he had expected Viktor to stay. As if he had _wanted_ him to. Viktor swallowed, then rose and got out of the bath. He needed a cold shower before he gave in to the primal instincts that screamed in the back of his head.

* * *

“You should produce your next free program yourself.”

     Yuuri spat out the water he had been drinking when Viktor finished his suggestion.

     “What?”

     “You should produce your next free program yourself”, Viktor repeated, even though he was quite sure Yuuri had heard him the first time.

     “My coach has always chosen my music”, Yuuri protested.

     “Isn’t it more fun to do it yourself?” Viktor asked with a smile. “I’m sure you have ideas already.”

     Yuuri looked down at his skates. He had been skating through his short program while Viktor watched from the sidelines. Everything had been upped another notch. He landed the quad salchow by now and the transitions between the movements was smoother, more graceful. Which was why Viktor had decided to bring up the free program; they needed to start working on that or they would never finish in time for the start of the season.

     The idea to let Yuuri produce it had come to him the night before, after he had left the _onsen_. He had learned during his time here that Yuuri’s self-esteem was down in the basement of an underground military base. It had risen after his competition against Yurio, when he had skated _Eros_ and won, but it was still not enough. Yuuri did not believe in himself like Viktor believed in him.

     _Eros_ had been Viktor’s challenge to Yuuri. Now it was high time for Yuuri to challenge himself. To find himself. If what he was saying now was true – that he had never chosen his music himself before – then perhaps he had been locked in a box by his previous coaches. None of them had ever asked him to do anything remotely like _Eros_ , for example.

     “Who was your previous coach again?” Viktor asked as Yuuri stepped off the ice.

     “Celestino Cialdini”, Yuuri replied.

     “Rigth, Ciao Ciao!” Viktor said with a grin. “Let’s call him!”

     “What? Why?”

     “I’d like to know why you never got to pick your own music”, Viktor answered as they headed back to the changing rooms. “Have you still got his number?”

     Yuuri sighed in defeat, then nodded.

     “I’ll call him.”

     And Yuuri did, after having a shower and sitting only in his boxers on the bench in the middle of the changing room. He had new bruises, Viktor noted, from the falls he had taken today. Viktor wondered if Yuuri would ever allow him to give him a massage again – then had to quickly turn away before his body could move out of its own accord.

     Celestino Cialdini, otherwise known as Ciao Ciao, picked up soon after Yuuri had pressed the dial button. Viktor could not make out the words, but the tone of his voice sounded upbeat and happy.

     “Oh”, Yuuri said, replying to something the man on the phone had said, “yes, it’s been a while.”

     Viktor heard Celestino mention his own name and turned towards Yuuri again – and saw the other man’s shoulders slump slightly.

     “Sorry.”

     Viktor frowned, then heard Celestino say exactly what he himself was thinking.

     “Why are you apologizing?”

     Yuuri opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. He did not know. Viktor quickly plucked the phone from his hand and pressed the speaker button.

     “ _Ciao ciao_ , Celestino!” he said, forcing a smile into his voice. “I’m his coach, Viktor!”

     “You’re playing at being a coach in Japan, Nikiforov?” Celestino asked, his voice less upbeat and happy now that Viktor was the one speaking to him. “Cut it out already.”

     Viktor stared at the phone. That was new.

     “So, why didn’t you let Yuuri choose his program music?” he forced himself to ask, instead of defending his own choice. That he could do whenever him and Celestino met during the Grand Prix tour. Perhaps they could have a drinking game to prove who was the stronger coach – Viktor knew he could take a lot before going down.

     “I usually select music for my skaters”, Celestino said, “but if they want, they can choose themselves. Yuuri only brought me a piece once. I believe it was composed by an acquaintance.”

     Viktor’s eyes snapped to Yuuri, who quickly looked down, his cheeks turning red. _Well, what do you know_ , Viktor thought.

     “It wasn’t bad”, Celestino continued, “but... Yuuri never had confidence in himself or his choices. I told him time and again to trust himself more, but...”

     “Okay, thanks”, Viktor interrupted and moved to end the call.

     “Celestino”, Yuuri suddenly said and grabbed Viktor’s arm, stilling his movement, “I’m going to redeem myself at the next Grand Prix Finale.”

     Celestino was quiet for a few seconds before he replied. Now the smile was back in his voice.

     “That’s what I wanted to hear you say last year.”

     Yuuri’s lips widened in a smile, before he ended the call.

     “Yuuri...” Viktor begun.

     “I couldn’t make myself contact him for so long”, Yuuri said, eyes distant. “I thought...”

     “Yuuri”, Viktor said again, sharper this time. The dark-haired man jumped and then he blush was back on his cheeks.

     “What’s this music he mentioned? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

     “Well, it... it wasn’t...”

     “Can I listen to it?”

     Yuuri closed his eyes briefly, then sighed and nodded.

     “It’s on my phone”, he said, nodding towards the object still in Viktor’s hand. “Let me...”

     “What’s it called?” Viktor asked.

     “I’m not letting you scroll through my phone, Viktor”, Yuuri said, his voice suddenly sharp. It caused Viktor to give the phone back to him without further arguments.

     When Yuuri handed it back it displayed a music app – and the piece in question begun soon afterwards. Viktor instantly did not see it as a perfect candidate for Yuuri’s free program. Sure, it was a good piece, but it felt too... too much. There was too much going on, too many instruments involved. It was more like what Viktor might have used for one of his free programs a couple of years back.

     “Well?” Yuuri asked when the track ended.

     “I think... you should perhaps consider other possibilities”, Viktor replied. Yuuri’s face fell.

     “It’s a good piece, Yuuri”, Viktor quickly continued, “but when you produce your own program the music has to feel like you. It has to _be_ you.”

     Yuuri slowly nodded, but once again their journey back to the inn was quiet – and that night Yuuri did not join Viktor in the _onsen_.

     He also did not show up for practice the day after that. When Viktor returned to the inn he was told that Yuuri had taken Makkachin for a run. A long one, it seemed, since he did not show up for dinner. The brown poodle did not pad back inside Viktor’s room until close to midnight – and at the same time Viktor heard Yuuri’s door slam shut.

     He pulled out his phone and sent Jenna a rather long text explaining the situation and asking what he should do next. She took a while to respond, but then again it was midday for her; she might be busy.

     _Try talking to him_ was her eventual reply.

     _He won’t let me_

_You’re his coach and you live together; you have to see each other eventually_

     That turned out to be next day, when Yuuri beat him to the rink. He was already out on the ice by the time Viktor got there – which was in time for their usual practice. Yuuri acknowledged Viktor’s presence with a nod, before focusing once more on his skating. Viktor leaned against the rail and watched. For a long time the only sound in the rink was the sound of Yuuri’s skates scraping against the ice.

     Then Yuuri started practicing jumps – and fell. Over and over and over again. He did not nail a single one.

     Viktor straightened and waved him over to the rink side, handing him a water bottle.

     “You still haven’t found a piece?” he asked after Yuuri had swallowed his first mouthful. Yuuri did not look up, causing Viktor to sigh.

     “Yuuri”, he said, “why can’t you trust your own decisions? It’s not about what I like – it’s about what you like. And if the piece you let me hear a couple of days ago feels right for you, then that’s what you choose.”

     Now Yuuri lifted his head and glared – yes, glared – at Viktor. That was new.

     “As long as the music makes you feel something”, Viktor still continued, “it’s the right one. Like when you, I don’t know, meet your true love?”

     “Viktor, that is the most rubbish piece of advice you have ever given me”, Yuuri spat out, then walked off the ice. Viktor stared after him as he marched towards the changing rooms. _Good talk, Nikiforov_ , he thought to himself, before hurrying after Yuuri. He caught him just as he was about to head outside.

     “Yuuri, let’s go to the castle.”

     “No.”

     Once more Viktor just stopped and stared at Yuuri’s back as the dark-haired man walked away. He did not move until Yuuri had already crossed the bridge and disappeared among the myriad of buildings on the other side. Then he cursed in Russian, grabbed his bike and biked after him.

     The same pattern repeated itself three more times that day; when Viktor asked Yuuri if they should go run together on the beach, when Viktor suggested a bath in the _onsen_ and when Viktor came up to Yuuri’s closed bedroom door with food. The last time, though, he did not leave. Instead he sat down on the floor with his back towards the door, picking at the noodles in his bowl. Makkachin lay on the floor nearby and eyed the bowl meant for Yuuri with wide, pleading eyes.

     “Makka’s going to have your food if you don’t come out”, Viktor called through the door.

     “I’m not hungry”, Yuuri called back.

     “So I can give it to him?”

     “What’s in it?”

     “Noodles”, Viktor replied and looked down into his own bowl, “broth, eggs, vegetables.”

     A few moments later there was the sound of feet padding against the floor and then the door opened, just a fraction. Viktor looked up at the sliver of Yuuri that he could see and smiled, raising his own bowl.

     “It’s very tasty”, he said. Yuuri opened the door a bit wider, knelt down and took the other bowl from the tray, then sat back on his side of the threshold. Viktor turned so that they could sit right in front of one another, without crossing the line that was the doorway.

     “I’m sorry”, he said once Yuuri had had a few bites.

     “Why?”

     “Because I didn’t give you good advice.”

     Yuuri shrugged.

     “I’m not angry about that.”

     Viktor frowned.

     “You’re not?”

     “No”, Yuuri replied, “I’m angry because I’ve disappointed you.”

     Viktor frowned even deeper, then put his half-eaten bowl of noodles back on the tray.

     “Yuuri, you haven’t disappointed me.”

     The other man did not look like he believed him and Viktor was once more shocked by just how low Yuuri’s self esteem was. He reached forward, his right hand crossing the invisible line between them in order to take Yuuri’s. The dark-haired man’s head snapped up, eyes wide – just like they always were when Viktor crossed through the isolating bubble Yuuri imagined existed around him.

     “No skating tomorrow”, Viktor gently said. “Let’s take the day to ourselves. We can go to the beach, talk...”

     His voice drifted off when he realized he did not have any other things to say that would not insinuate something that people might consider inappropriate. Yuuri sat frozen in front of him for a long time before he slowly nodded.

     “Okay.”

     Then he reached past Viktor to place his own half-eaten bowl of food back on the tray before he rose. Viktor rose as well and when Yuuri went to close the door his hand shot out again, taking hold of Yuuri’s bicep. He wanted to pull the other man to him, wanted to ask if he could – or should – stay. But no words came and, slowly, he let go of Yuuri and stepped back.

     “Goodnight, Yuuri”, he said and bent down to lift the tray.

     “Goodnight, Viktor”, Yuuri replied and closed the door between them once more.

* * *

On other days they would have used the time on the long, sandy beach to go for a run. They were dressed for it, just in case they decided to do that as well, but for now they just walked, side by side, in silence. The sky was covered in clouds, the colours ranging from grey to silver to white, sometimes thin enough to let them see the blue sky beyond. At least Viktor did; Yuuri looked down during their whole walk.

     Eventually, Viktor stopped and sat down on the stone wall that marked how far up the beach the tide would reach during flood. Yuuri hesitated for a moment, then sat down on his left, pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. His eyes looked out across the sea, distant and sad. Viktor let out a small sigh, then looked up as another sound drew his attention.

     “Seagulls”, he commented.

     “Black-tailed gulls”, Yuuri corrected. It was the first thing he had said all morning. Viktor hoped it was a sign of progress.

     “Ever since I came here”, he said, “I’ve found that the seagulls remind me of St Petersburg. I never thought I’d leave that city, so I never really paid them any attention back there. Now I notice them everywhere.”

     He glanced at Yuuri.

     “You lived in Detroit before”, he said. “Do you miss it? Or did you miss Hasetsu while you were there?”

     “No”, Yuuri replied, his voice somewhat muffled due to the fact that his knees were in the way of his mouth. “I mean, I miss Detroit sometimes, but I missed Hasetsu more while there. Now I mostly miss my friends.”

     “Anyone I’d know?”

     “Phichit Chulanont”, was Yuuri’s reply. Viktor raised his eyebrows in surprise. Phichit was a Thai skater who seemed addicted to social media. His Instagram was updated at least four times per hour with new images of him practicing, eating, meeting friends, shopping – doing anything. Viktor had competed against him in Four Continents last season and Phichit had claimed third. There was no doubt in Viktor’s mind that the Thai skater aimed for the Grand Prix this year.

     “There was a girl”, Yuuri suddenly said, drawing Viktor’s attention once more, “in Detroit. A skater. She was really pushy and kept talking to me. One day, a rink mate got into an accident and I was pretty torn up with worry. I was waiting in the hospital together with that girl and when she hugged me to comfort me... I shoved her away without thinking about it.”

     “Why?” Viktor asked, his voice soft.

     “I didn’t want her to think I was feeling unsettled”, Yuuri replied. “I felt like she was intruding on my feelings or something – and I hated it.”

     He let out a deep sigh.

     “Then I realized that Minako- _sensei_ , Takeshi, Yuko- _chan_ , my family... they never treated me like a weakling. They all had faith that I’d keep growing as a person and they never stepped over the line.”

     “You’re not weak, Yuuri”, Viktor said, smiling slightly. “No one thinks that.”

     Yuuri did not reply. He was still looking out over the waves, his dark haired ruffled slightly by the wind.

     “What do you want me to be to you, Yuuri?” Viktor asked after a while. He knew he had to tread lightly. What Yuuri had just told him was only the first layer of the shell he kept around himself. The reason why he kept himself isolated, why he had trouble believing in himself, still lay buried. Push too hard and he would crack beyond repair.

     “Do you want me to be a father figure?” Viktor continued.

     “No”, was Yuuri’s soft reply.

     “A brother, then? A friend?”

     Yuuri made a small sound, as if he could not quite decide if this was what he wanted or not. Viktor had to draw a deep breath before he uttered his next three words.

     “Your boyfriend, then?”

     Yuuri flew up from his seat faster than a new year’s eve rocket shooting into the sky.

     “Viktor, no! No!”

     Viktor turned to face him fully. It hurt to hear those words from Yuuri, but part of him knew that Yuuri was not done. Was not ready for something like that.

     And if he was not, then Viktor could wait. No matter how difficult that might be.

     Yuuri drew a deep breath and straightened.

     “Viktor, I don’t want you to _pretend_ to be someone you’re not”, he said. “I want you to be you. To stay you.”

     Viktor felt himself smile, then reached out his right hand towards Yuuri. Yuuri took it and pulled him up to his feet.

     “You should know”, Viktor said, “if I’m me, then I won’t let you off easy. I’ll keep pushing. That’s my way of showing how much I care about you.”

     That was the closest he had gotten to confess his feelings – and Yuuri did not balk, did not run. Instead he managed a hint of a smile and gave Viktor’s hand a firm shake.

     The next day Yuuri told Viktor that he had gotten in touch with the student who had composed the music piece for him back in Detroit – and that she was going to make a new version. Yuuri then asked him to teach him all the jumps he was able to perform. Including the quad flip.

     They practiced through the day, then the next and the one after that, side by side, jumps followed by step sequences, over and over again. Once again Viktor was stunned by Yuuri’s stamina. If Viktor managed to complete five jumps before needing a break, Yuuri always did at least twice as many.

     “One more time”, Yuuri demanded on the afternoon of the third day. Viktor was leaning against the rail going around the rink, chest heaving, legs trembling, and let out a slight laugh.

     “Hasn’t it been tens of thousands of times?”

They had been at it for hours and even though he did take breaks and watch from the sidelines, knowing full well that his stamina could not compare to Yuuri’s, he preferred to skate alongside him. Especially since they were now practicing bits and pieces of Viktor’s own free skate – the one that had brought him and Yuuri together.

     It had been Yuuri’s idea, voiced that same morning after their warm-up exercises. If he made it to the Grand Prix series and got on the podium, he would be asked to perform an exhibition program. And he wanted to do Viktor’s _Stammi Vicino_.

     Viktor had been ecstatic and immediately given his blessing to the other skater. It was the perfect choice; if Yuuri had not skated that program and been filmed doing it, if that recording had not been uploaded by Yuuko’s triplets, if Viktor had not seen it, neither of them would have been here today. Yuuri would have retired and Viktor... he did not know. What would he have done at this time of the year if he had not gone to coach Yuuri?

     He lifted his right foot to clean the blade while trying to focus once more.

     “You’ve got pretty good stamina, Yuuri. Have I said that before?”

     “Well, I have that, at least”, Yuuri replied. Viktor smiled and bent down to clean his left blade.

     “You also haven’t suffered any major injuries – and you’re younger than I am. You...”

     Yuuri’s finger landed on the top of his head and Viktor froze, still standing on one leg, with his right arm on the rail and his left hand on the blade of his skate. His brain was rapidly trying to understand what was going on.

     Yuuri was touching his hair.

     His silver hair.

     He had not been born with this hair colour. When he was a little kid and got into skating his hair had been brown. The change had started when he was eleven and by the age of twelve the silver dominated. The international skating world had never seen him as anything but a silver haired youth – and as he started winning titles, showing his prowess, it had also become a sign of otherness.

     Viktor had grown accustomed to seeing the silver strands waft in front of his eyes instead of the brown ones he had had as a child. Had even grown to like them. But they also made him very aware of the fact that somewhere in his biology was the gene that had caused this early greying – and he was terrified that that meant he would also lose it earlier than he would have liked. When Yuuri now touched the top of his hair, Viktor wondered if that time had actually come. If Yuuri, with this new vantage point, had suddenly found a balding spot.

     “S-sorry!”

     Yuuri’s yelp and the way he quickly moved away broke the spell. They could not have been standing like that for more than a few seconds, but to Viktor it felt like minutes.

     “I couldn’t help it”, Yuuri continued. Viktor slowly let go of his left foot and instead reached up to feel the spot Yuuri’s finger had touched. He could not feel any sign of baldness – but he was wearing gloves. Maybe it was actually there; he just could not feel it with the gloves on.

     “Is... is it getting that thin?” he asked, mainly to himself.

     “What? No! No, no, no, everything’s okay!”

     Yuuri’s panicked voice – which was most likely caused by him being shocked by what he had just done – did nothing to reassure Viktor. He pulled his glove off and checked the spot again.

     There was nothing. He felt no difference in the amount of hair present on that spot compared to anywhere else.

     Despite this he allowed himself to crumple to the ice.

     “I’m hurt, Yuuri”, he said. “How can I recover from this?”

     He did not know why he decided to do that. At first he wondered if the other side of him – _the_ Viktor Nikiforov – had suddenly resurfaced, but he felt no walls shooting up between him and Yuuri. He felt no different. Then Yuuri knelt beside him, eyes wide and pleading.

     “I’m so, so sorry, Viktor, I just couldn’t stop myself and I didn’t know and your hair is fine and beautiful and... are you laughing?”

     Viktor was. He was lying on his stomach on the ice, face turned towards Yuuri’s kneeling form, and he was laughing. And he could not stop. Yuuri’s shocked face soon changed; first into one of annoyance, then happiness.

     “You are such an idiot”, he said and slapped – yes, slapped – Viktor’s arm.

     “Yes, I am”, Viktor replied and rolled over onto his back. “A tired, old, happy idiot.”

     “You’re not old”, Yuuri said.

     “For a figure skater, I am.”

     “Not. Old.”

     Viktor grinned and shook his head at Yuuri’s punctuated words.

     “Fine”, he said. “I’m not old, then. But I am tired. And happy.”

     “You need a third word, since you removed old”, Yuuri said with a grin. It was as if his own walls had gone down and the confident, playful part of him that he showed during his _Eros_ performance appeared again, but without the added intention of seduction. This was just Yuuri feeling free.

     “You pick one”, Viktor said, still on his back on the ice. “What’s my third word?”

     Yuuri studied him intently for several long moments. Then he lifted his hand and poked at Viktor’s silver hair once again.

     “Human.”

     Such a simple word, yet it carried so much meaning behind it. So much that Viktor felt his smile fall somewhat, before he reached up and grabbed Yuuri’s hand, slowly allowing it to move from his hair to his face. Yuuri let out a trembling breath, one Viktor was pretty sure he matched.

     Human.

     Real.

     Reachable.

     He was no different from any other man. He had feelings, he had weaknesses, he could be happy and sad. He was not a myth, a legend, an angel or a demon.

     He was simply human.

     Yuuri’s right hand landed on the ice on the other side of Viktor’s head, while his left remained on Viktor’s cheek, with Viktor’s hand wrapped around his wrist. He was hovering above the silver-haired man, eyes dark, darker than they usually were. Viktor was pretty sure he mirrored that image. A small voice in his head urged him to raise his free hand and pull Yuuri down, but the rest of him wanted to wait. Enjoyed the feeling of Yuuri above him. Of Yuuri in control.

     _Kiss me_ , Viktor begged in his head, praying that, in this instance, perhaps Yuuri could be given telepathic powers. _Please kiss me._

Yuuri’s thumb swiped across Viktor’s bottom lip, much like Viktor’s thumb had swiped across Yuuri’s when he had introduced _Eros_. Viktor heard his breath hitch as if from a distance. As if he was no longer a part of his body.

     “Yuuri! Viktor!”

     The moment shattered like a piece of fragile glass. Viktor let go of Yuuri’s hand at the same time that Yuuri pulled back, distancing himself and turning towards Yuuko as she entered the rink. The brunette stopped and looked at them.

     “Are you two alright?” she asked, a worried frown appearing on her forehead. She must have thought that Viktor had fallen, that that was why him and Yuuri were on the ice in their current positions. In order to reassure her that this was not the case, Viktor rose and brushed the ice from his pants.

     “Just resting”, he said. “It’s been a long day.”

     Yuuri rose as well. Viktor wondered if he should perhaps have helped him up, but at the moment he was not sure if he would have been able to let go once again.

     “Oh, good”, Yuuko said. “Me and Takeshi are leaving for the day.”

     “We’ll be going soon as well”, Viktor said and smiled. He knew it probably looked slightly forced, but Yuuko might be too far away to tell.

     “We’ll lock up”, Yuuri filled in. Yuuko nodded.

     “Good. See you two tomorrow?”

     Both Yuuri and Viktor nodded and watched Yuuko leave once more. Then they just stood there, on the ice, without looking at one another.

     “We should...” Viktor eventually said.

     “Time to go”, Yuuri said at the same time. In the corner of his eye Viktor saw the other man blush – and the slight burn on his cheeks made him think he was doing the same.

     “I’ll clean up out here”, he said. “You’ll go have a shower.”

     They did not bathe together that night, or dine together. Viktor asked Yuuri’s mother for a bowl of noodles, took it up to his own room and collapsed on the bed together with Makkachin. He managed to eat half of the bowl’s contents before sighing and putting it away.

     He had a feeling he was in for a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can honestly say I did not expect this chapter to go this way when I first started writing it - but then this happened and a whole bunch of issues I've been having with plotting out the following ones sort of solved themselves. So I hope you all enjoyed because I certainly did!
> 
> Comments/kudos/subscribes/bookmarks - you know I love them and I get giddy every time I see a new notification of any of these. Thank you all so much for reading and stay tuned for more!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He could hear Yuuri – all sides of Yuuri – in each note, in each rhythm, in the subtle addition of percussion and strings. He heard them clash, battle for dominance, then wind together, grow in order to create the man sitting in front of him right now._   
>  _This was Yuuri._   
>  _Viktor sat up, removed the earbuds from his ears and looked at the dark-haired man opposite him._   
>  _“This is your choice?” he asked, forcing himself to keep his face straight. Yuuri met his gaze, looking like he was ready to defend the piece if he had to, then nodded._   
>  _Viktor’s face split in a wide smile._   
>  _“It’s perfect.”_

**Hasetsu, June 2013**

* * *

Viktor spent the first half of the night texting Jenna. He received few replies – mainly because his texts were nothing but random thoughts and emojis.

     _Go to sleep_ had been her first reply.

     _Something’s troubling you_ had been her second.

     _I’ll call you tomorrow morning – your time_ was her third.

     _Viktor, seriously, stop. We’ll talk tomorrow_

     Her fourth and final text was what made him discard the phone with a frustrated groan. He had wished for Yuuri to be a telepath earlier and now he wished for Jenna to be able to teleport to his room. Of course he was glad she would call him in the morning so that they could talk properly, but he needed her now. He needed her to tell him what to do next.

     Yuuri’s actions since their talk on the beach had been different. A sign that maybe, just maybe, their relationship was turning into something more than what it had first been. Viktor had discarded his shell during his first weeks in Hasetsu and now Yuuri seemed about to discard at least a part of his. Maybe not all of it – and maybe not in all situations – but maybe, one day, it would be discarded completely when it was just him and Viktor.

     What had happened that afternoon was proof of that. Viktor had never seen Yuuri so relaxed before, had never seen him act solely on impulse. Step out of his cocoon and allow himself to be the man Viktor had glimpsed and believed himself to have fallen in love with during the banquet last December.

     By now Viktor knew there were many more sides to Yuuri than that man – and he also knew that he loved them all. The Yuuri who cared so much about his family and friends that he let his own needs come last. The Yuuri that was analytical, thoughtful and clever. The Yuuri that tried again and again to make everything perfect and right. The Yuuri that was anxious about how other people saw him. The Yuuri that never complained. The Yuuri that only let a few select people get close enough to touch him – who had let Viktor come close.

     The Yuuri that Viktor loved so much it hurt.

     He let out another groan and turned over, lay on his side and glared at the wall – as if him not being able to sleep was not due to the beehive of thoughts in his head, but because of the wall he now faced.

     Makkachin curled up next to him and easily fell asleep. Viktor drifted off, then woke up and found that twenty minutes had passed. He did the same thing a second time, then a third. The clock on his phone crept slowly, slowly towards midnight. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the same thing; Yuuri leaning over him, dark eyes intent, his thumb swiping across Viktor’s lip. His face inched closer. Closer. And then Viktor woke up. After the fourth time this happened he started to think he did not – even subconsciously – want to imagine Yuuri kissing him. He did not want to compare an imaginary Yuuri with the real one – if the real thing were to happen.

     Still, he drifted off a fifth time. Yuuri’s face inched closer, swiped his thumb across Viktor’s lower lip, opened his mouth and said:

     “Viktor, listen!”

     Viktor blinked, his dark room slowly appearing in front of him. Yuuri jumped onto the bed, accidentally stepping on Makkachin’s tail.

     “Sorry, Makka!” Yuuri called after the poodle as it hurriedly left the room. Viktor was still trying to understand what Yuuri was doing in his bedroom in the middle of the night, with a laptop, when Yuuri placed a pair of earbuds in his ears.

     Music flowed through them into Viktor and he closed his eyes again, allowing himself to focus only on the piano that played in his ears and helped him wake up. Helped him realize that he had heard bits and pieces of this before, but in a different arrangement.

     This was the new version of Yuuri’s free skate music.

     No, not just a new version. This was Yuuri.

     He could hear Yuuri – all sides of Yuuri – in each note, in each rhythm, in the subtle addition of percussion and strings. He heard them clash, battle for dominance, then wind together, grow in order to create the man sitting in front of him right now.

     This was Yuuri.

     Viktor sat up, removed the earbuds from his ears and looked at the dark-haired man opposite him.

     “This is your choice?” he asked, forcing himself to keep his face straight. Yuuri met his gaze, looking like he was ready to defend the piece if he had to, then nodded.

     Viktor’s face split in a wide smile.

     “It’s perfect.”

     The moment those words fell from his lips, Yuuri’s face brightened as well. Then he threw his arms around Viktor’s neck in a hug that set Viktor off-balance, made him fall back down onto the bed, and suddenly they were in a similar situation to the one on the ice earlier that day. Except now Yuuri’s arms were bent, bringing his face closer to Viktor’s. And Viktor’s chest was bare, as he did not sleep in anything but his boxers. And they were lying more or less on top of one another, instead of Yuuri sitting beside Viktor. Yuuri’s eyes widened and he moved to pull back, but at the same time Viktor’s hands landed on his hips and he stilled once more. Viktor had intended the move to be helpful, had intended to use his hands to support Yuuri and help him climb off. Now his hands simply stayed on Yuuri’s hips – and Yuuri’s face inched closer.

     “Yuuri”, Viktor breathed. He had intended it as a warning; three days ago Yuuri had seemed far from ready to take this step, to go past the friendly student-and-coach relationship to something more. Then the incident on the ice had happened, making Viktor think that maybe, just maybe, they could be closer to that than he had initially thought.

     This was much closer in time than he had anticipated. And even though Yuuri paused upon hearing his name he did not pull back. Did not run. Did not look like he wanted to be anywhere else. Yes, he was blushing slightly, but it only complemented the fact that his eyes were darker than normal, pupils blown wide. Slowly Yuuri lowered his face another inch.

     “Viktor”, he breathed. Viktor shivered. Yuuri did not say his name as a warning, but as a promise.

     And then Yuuri kissed him.

     It was soft and tender, the kind of kiss someone who had not gotten much experience with kissing might give. Viktor still moaned into it. Yuuri was kissing him. He was kissing Yuuri. _They_ were kissing.

     Coherent thought was a thing of the past as Viktor moved one of his hands to Yuuri’s neck, gently guiding him to angle his head while his lips showed him what to do. Yuuri was a fast learner; he allowed Viktor to take command of the kiss long enough to demonstrate how to do it, then took over once more. And Viktor relished the feeling of letting go. Their lips parted, their tongues touched and Viktor was not sure if it was him or Yuuri or both of them that let out another moan.

     Then Yuuri slowly pulled back and Viktor opened his eyes to look up at him. The dark-haired man looked shocked.

     “I... did we just... wow”, was all he managed to say. Viktor grinned.

     “Wow”, he agreed. His fingers played with the hairs on the back of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri sighed and leaned down, forehead resting against Viktor’s.

     “We kissed”, he mumbled.

     “That we did”, Viktor replied, fingers still playing with Yuuri’s hair. “Can we do it again?”

     He felt Yuuri nod and pushed himself up from the mattress into a sitting position, causing Yuuri to end up in his lap. Viktor placed both of his hands on Yuuri’s cheeks, framing it as he placed a gentle kiss on the tip of Yuuri’s nose. Then Yuuri’s eyelids. Then back to Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri let out a soft moan and parted his lips, letting Viktor deepen the kiss. His arms stayed wrapped around Viktor’s shoulders and slowly his fingers started to play with Viktor’s hair, much like Viktor had played with his. Viktor let out a groan, dropping his hands from Yuuri’s cheeks to instead wrap them around his torso, pulling him closer.

     “Yuuri”, he said and pulled back. He did not have to say anything else; Yuuri could feel what he meant, now that he was pulled flush against Viktor. Slowly he pushed back, putting some distance between them.

     Viktor understood. He knew Yuuri had not been in a relationship before and he did not seem to be the kind of guy that hooked up with random people. So he was, most likely, a virgin.

     This did, however, not mean that he was ready to let Yuuri leave.

     “Will you stay?” he asked, his right hand coming up to brush against Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri hesitated, then slowly nodded.

     After making sure that Yuuri’s laptop was on the floor instead of on the bed, they lay down side by side beneath the covers, facing one another. Viktor’s hand brushed against Yuuri’s cheek once again. Yuuri took it, braided their fingers together and placed their joined hands between them.

     “Sweet dreams, Yuuri”, Viktor whispered.

     “You too, Viktor.”

* * *

A buzzing sound pulled Viktor from sleep.

     “Phone”, Yuuri mumbled against his chest. Viktor was suddenly wide awake and stared down at the mop of black hair below his chin.

     Yuuri was still there – and at some point in the night he had moved to lie curled against Viktor’s bare chest. Their legs were tangled together, Viktor’s arms were protectively wrapped around Yuuri – and Yuuri’s arms were wrapped around him in the same manner.

     “Viktor”, Yuuri mumbled, sounding annoyed, “phone.”

     Viktor let his right arm leave Yuuri to instead try to find his phone without looking away from the view of the other man cradled against his chest. Eventually he grabbed it, pressed the “accept call” button and put the phone to his ear.

     “Hello?”

     The other end of the line was quiet for a while, before he heard Jenna’s voice.

     “Viktor, am I seeing the inside of your ear?”

     Viktor yanked the phone from his ear and stared at the screen. There was Jenna’s face, staring down at him and Yuuri – who had jumped back from Viktor with a yelp when he heard the unfamiliar voice coming from the phone.

     “Please tell me I didn’t call at the worst time possible”, Jenna said. _Define worst time_ , Viktor thought. He was looking from Jenna to Yuuri and tried to figure out what to say. And, as usual, Jenna figured that out and saved him the trouble.

     “Well”, she said, “this was not how I imagined we’d meet, Yuuri, but I am glad to finally be able to say hello to you.”

     “W-what?” Yuuri managed to get out.

     “I’m Jenna”, Jenna continued, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if Viktor hasn’t mentioned me, but I’m one of his old friends. Not an ex-girlfriend. Just a friend.”

     She paused and glanced at Viktor instead.

     “You know”, she said, “this is really bad timing. We’ll talk later.”

     And then she hung up.

     Viktor stared at the object in his still raised hand, then turned to look at Yuuri. The Japanese man’s eyes were glued to the phone, his cheeks were bright red and his breath was coming in short gasps.

     “Yuuri”, Viktor started, but the moment he spoke the other man hurriedly rose and walked out of the room, back to his own. Viktor cursed and followed, only just managing to keep Yuuri from closing the door between them.

     “Yuuri, let me explain.”

     “Explain what?” Yuuri asked, pushing against the door. Viktor pushed back and felt himself gaining the upper hand. Yuuri noticed as well and stopped trying to close the door, instead stalking over to his own bed and sitting down. Makkachin was there; he must have gone into Yuuri’s room after leaving Viktor’s last night. The poodle now wagged his tail at them, but also looked at them in a way that clearly said _I’d appreciate if you didn’t fight in here, I’m trying to sleep_.

     Was that what they were doing – fighting? Viktor did not like that. It made his mouth taste of bile. He hated fighting – always had – and to possibly fight with Yuuri after what had happened between them last night... Viktor felt as if he was standing on a bridge midway across a ravine and someone had suddenly started sawing the rope that held the bridge together.

     “Yuuri, she’s a friend”, he said.

     “Whom you’ve slept with?”

     “What? No! No, Yuuri, I haven’t...”

     He went cold.

     “You think I’ve slept with everyone I know?” he asked. It would not surprise him; the media had always done their best to picture him as the unattainable bachelor, the famous skater who could get anyone he wanted for a night, cast them aside with a flick of the wrist and still be just as adored by the public. But after what Yuuri had said on the ice the day before – calling him human – he had hoped that, perhaps, the other man had been able to look past that.

     “No”, Yuuri said after a while. His voice was softer now.

     “Viktor, I... I don’t believe that.”

     He ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair, messing it up even more.

     “Who is she?” he then asked. Viktor slowly walked into the room and sat down on the bed, on the other side of Makkachin. And then he started telling Yuuri the truth.

     The story of how who he had really been during the last year of his career flowed out of him, like water released from a dam. He told Yuuri how he had struggled to choreograph his programs, had struggled to find the motivation to keep going. How he had tried to avoid the throng of media people crowding the area around the rink, how he had run away from them and straight into Jenna. He described Jenna’s mac-and-cheese and how her penthouse apartment had become his safe zone. How he had never let anyone know who she was or where she lived, walked in strange patterns all over St Petersburg to shake off possible photographers trailing him. Viktor told Yuuri of his dual personality – the shell he kept up for the media to keep himself from being hurt and his real self – and how Jenna had helped him stay sane. Yuuri looked like he understood that part of the story perfectly; he did the same thing, but his protective shell was not a charming bachelor like Viktor’s was.

     Viktor continued by telling Yuuri of how he had taken a break from skating and spent his days at Jenna’s apartment, how she had told him of Yuuri’s video and pushed him to go to Hasetsu. How he had tried to make her come along because he knew that she was running from something back in England. How desperately he wanted to keep her safe, in the way a close friend or brother might do. He revealed the reason why he had been late that morning when Yuuri had been practicing the quad salchow with Yurio; that he had been panicking about Jenna not picking up the phone. That she had moved back to England early due to her father’s health. And that she had known of his feelings towards Yuuri for a long time.

     “You... your feelings?” Yuuri asked at that point. Viktor wondered if this was the right moment to bring up what had happened between them at the banquet. That he had loved Yuuri since that night. Or would that scare Yuuri away forever? Professing his undying love based on an interaction at a banquet seemed suddenly very shallow. Viktor knew by now that Yuuri was far more complicated than the version he had met that night – and that the feelings that had struck him after their first meeting were miniscule, nothing but a drunken crush, compared to what he felt by now.

     In the end he just nodded.

     “Yes.”

     Yuuri looked at him without saying another word, thoughtful yet also understanding. It was as if he had suddenly found the answer to a riddle he had attempted to solve.

     “I’m gay, Yuuri”, Viktor eventually added. He felt that should be out in the open as well. Yuuri blinked.

     “You... I thought you liked girls”, he admitted, blushing.

     “I tried”, Viktor replied. “Russia’s a difficult place to live in if you’re homosexual, so I tried to hide it. I was seventeen when I brought it up with Yakov and he told me to continue pretending. It’d be easier for all of us, he claimed. So I did.”

     “I tried, too”, Yuuri quietly admitted. Viktor blinked.

     “I’m gay”, the other man added. “Like you. But I didn’t... I couldn’t pretend like you did. I tried, with Yuuko. She was cute – everyone said she was – and she helped me on the ice and was always so kind and friendly. I kissed her once.”

     So he had not been Yuuri’s first kiss. Viktor found himself feeling slightly disappointed at that.

     “And then I blurted out I didn’t like girls”, Yuuri continued. “I thought she’d hate me, but she didn’t. She just... it seemed like she’d already known. And soon after that she and Takeshi started dating.”

     He abruptly fell silent again and blushed, seemingly thinking he had shared too much. Nothing was too much for Viktor. He felt like he was, once again, getting to know a new version of Yuuri. And a new version of himself; a version that allowed Yuuri to look even further beyond the famous skater image.

     “Yuuri”, he said, “I know... I’m afraid.”

     The other man’s head shot up, eyes wide in surprise and confusion.

     “I’m afraid”, Viktor repeated, “because for the first time in my life I have people like you and Jenna. Whom I’ve let past my guard and can’t bear to lose. But, at the same time... I don’t know how. All my life I’ve distanced myself from people and now I have to do the opposite.”

     He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes focusing on the empty wall above Yuuri’s desk. It still looked strange to him, like there should be things there but he could not figure out what those things should be.

     “I’m afraid that I will end up losing either you or Jenna or both simply by being me”, he finished, “because being me has never worked out before.”

     Yuuri did not reply and Viktor wondered if, by being honest and himself, he had actually done exactly what he feared he would eventually do. Then the other man reached across Makkachin and took his hand, fingers entwining with Viktor’s.

     “Can I talk to her?” Yuuri then asked. “To Jenna, I mean.”

     Viktor studied their joined hands, felt Yuuri give a slight, reassuring squeeze, then nodded. Instead of letting Viktor go back to his own room and get his phone, Yuuri gave him his and Viktor typed in Jenna’s number. He started by sending a text.

_Yuuri wants to talk to you_

     Then he waited a couple of minutes for a plausible reply before making the call. He only heard one dial tone before Jenna picked up.

     “Jenna?” Viktor said before she could speak.

     “I’m here”, she replied. “Is everything alright?”

     “Yes.”

     “You sure?”

     Viktor nodded, then realized she could not actually see that.

     “Yes”, he said. “Did you see the text?”

     “I did”, Jenna replied. “Can I talk to him, or are you hugging the phone?”

     Viktor let out a small laugh. In the corner of his eye he saw Yuuri’s lips tugging upwards as well.

     “He’s right here”, Viktor said. “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

     “I’m supposed to say that”, Jenna muttered, which made Viktor laugh once again before he handed the phone to Yuuri.

     “Hello?” he said as he pressed it to his ear. Viktor strained his ears, trying to pick up what Jenna said but could not. Should he just sit here and wait? How long would they be talking for?

     Slowly he let go of Yuuri’s hand and rose.

     “I’m going to the rink”, he said when Yuuri looked up at him with a frown. “You... should come once you’re finished.”

     Then he fled.

* * *

As usual Viktor felt calmer once on the ice. He did his usual warm-up exercises, then some sequences from _Stammi Vicino_ before taking a break. Five minutes later he started to try and figure out a plausible skating routine for Yuuri’s free skate.

     He knew he could not do all of it himself. This was Yuuri’s program, Yuuri’s challenge. But Viktor knew how to put a program together. And he knew what might work with the music that Yuuri had played for him the night before. However, thinking about what had happened the night before also set his mind veering in the wrong course and he found himself stumbling. Once he found his footing again he stopped, put his hands on his hips and glared down at his own feet, as if it was their fault he had almost fallen and not him being distracted.

     The sound of the door opening made him look up and face Yuuri. The younger man gave him a small smile, which was enough to make Viktor let out a relieved breath. Whatever Yuuri and Jenna had been talking about it had not been anything that had soured their relationship. Whatever it now could be called. He skated over to Yuuri, exited the rink and put his jacket on to stay warm.

     That was when he saw that Yuuri had a notepad in his hand.

     “What’s that?” he asked.

     “Some ideas”, Yuuri admitted, blushing slightly. “For the program. I just... jotted them down. They might not be good enough, so...”

     Viktor took the notepad from him and studied the list. There were twelve components – and he found himself able to clearly imagine how they might work together with the music. In fact they were very much in line with what he had thought of, though perhaps in a slightly different order.

     “This is good”, he said, looking up at Yuuri. “Yuuri, when did you do this?”

     “After I had finished talking to Jenna”, Yuuri replied. “She’s really nice, by the way. I’m sorry I...”

     “No, it’s alright”, Viktor said and shook his head. “I understand.”

     “It’s not alright”, Yuuri protested. “I know you, Viktor. Knew there was more to you than what the media said, from what others said about you, since the night you arrived here. But I just... I’m scared, too.”

     Viktor nodded, then moved his hand so that it touched Yuuri’s on the wooden rail going around the rink. Their pinkies grabbed hold of one another in a silent promise of trust.

     “We’ll take it slow”, he said. “See what happens, listen to one another.”

     Yuuri nodded and seemed to relax slightly. It became apparent to Viktor that Yuuri must have been worried about possibly going public about this at once – and Yuuri was not used to being front and centre, the star of the show.

     In truth, Viktor did not mind that. Did not mind waiting and keeping it private. Everything he had done in the past had been blasted out in magazines and on websites all over the world; with both Yuuri and Jenna he had things that were simple and quiet. His.

     He turned back to the list.

     “You know”, he said after a while, “if you want more impact, maybe the final jump should be a quad toe loop, instead of a triple?”

     “The last one?” Yuuri said with a frown and leaned in to look at the list as well, even though he probably had it memorized. It was simply a reason to stay close without looking out of place.

     “With your stamina, I think you can pull it off”, Viktor replied and turned his head slightly towards Yuuri. “Would you rather not?”

     Yuuri’s eyes blazed as they met his, gleaming with the strength that had not been there in the last season.

     “I’ll do it”, he replied. “Will you?”

     Viktor raised his eyebrows slightly.

     “Will I?”

     Yuuri hesitated, a faint blush on his cheeks.

     “Would you”, he corrected. “Would you have used that for your program, if this had been yours?”

     Viktor considered that question while pulling off his jacket once more, readying himself to get onto the ice.

     “No”, he replied. “My stamina’s not like yours, Yuuri. I would not have been able to do that. Not for an entire season.”

     “But you think I can do it?”

     “Yuuri, I _know_ you can do it.”

     He stepped onto the ice once more and skated towards the centre, where he waited for Yuuri to join him.

     “Did you change your theme, by the way?” he asked at that point. “I doubt _eros_ will work for this piece.”

     “Oh”, Yuuri said and blushed again, “yes, I... well, the overall theme will be ‘love’ and this one... its theme is ‘on my love’.”

     _Katsuki Yuuri delivers a knock out on the ice and Viktor Nikiforov is down_ , Viktor thought. Even now, when their relationship had progressed to something beyond a friendly coach and student, Yuuri could knock the air out of Viktor’s lungs with a few words. By the time he regained control of his mind again he wondered if he had possibly been standing there, staring at Yuuri, for an hour or two. He cleared his throat and fought the blush on his own cheeks.

     “It’s a good theme”, he said. “Good choice. The best theme. Perfect.”

     He knew he was rambling – and he did not care. Especially not when he saw the smile Yuuri gave him.

     “Alright”, Viktor said, smiling as well, “let’s see what you had in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad people like this story! It's become one of my little babies, so to speak, and I'm really enjoying writing it - even if I don't have time to write as much as I'd like because of my other projects. So I hope people bear with me and trust that I will let you all know if I find myself too short on time to publish - otherwise new chapters will show up eventually, like this one! :)
> 
> As always, comments/kudos/subscriptions/bookmarks are absolutely amazing to see!

**Author's Note:**

> While writing this I listened a lot to the Spotify playlist "Piano in the Background" - basically a playlist of just instrumental piano pieces. Absolutely wonderful and extremely inspiring, so do go and check it out!


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